Buried Emotions
by SilverJem5
Summary: Mortals were curious beings. So full of strong, harmful emotions, which sometimes threatened to overwhealm them - regret, anger, resentment, guilt, sorrow, fear and hate. On the other hand, they experienced other ones as well - happiness, love, joy, pleasure, desire and satisfaction. How they balanced them all, he didn't know. Just a number of OC drabbles from my roleplay. :)
1. Chapter 1

**So after being inspired by MortalShadowhunter's drabble OC stories from our roleplay, I have made one of my own. :) I'm sorry if I've messed up any characters, some are written better than others, and I've done more of my characters this chapter to get a feel for it, so sorry about that. But if/when I do another chapter, I'll try and make it a more even ratio. Anyway, they're all varying lengths and styles, and I hope you enjoy.**

 **Jillessa Heronstairs's characters: Shae and Ross**

 **MortalShadowhunter's characters: Ember and Aaron**

 **My characters: Felix, Steff, Loki, Percy, Mason, Caspian and Caleb**

* * *

 **~~ Felix ~~**

There were two sides to a coin.

Just like there were two sides to him.

Heads – a heartless monster. A faerie puppet.

Tails – someone who cares too much. A mundane.

It depended on who you talked to as to which one he was.

So out of his pocket, he pulled out a coin. Rolling it around in his hand, he blew on it, making a mockery out of the good luck gesture. With a flourish, he flipped it into the air, holding his breath as he waited for it to land.

Hearing a tinkle, he opened his eyes and looked down at it, letting out his breath and laughing bitterly. His laugh echoed down the alleyway, like a madman's snigger, vibrating through his small frame.

It was always… Heads.

It seemed his sins could not be forgiven after all.

 **~~ Steff ~~**

Walking quickly down an alleyway in the Downworld Towns, Steff pulled her hood further over her head, trying to appear as nondescript as possible. She wished she was taller, stronger, and not so much of an easy target. But sadly, it wasn't something she could change.

Just like how scared she felt whenever she came.

The Downworld Towns was the kind of place that made her spine tingle, and her heart beat like a tiny bird that wouldn't be restrained. The kind of place that had her hand reaching towards the dagger hidden in her bag before she even knew what she was doing.

So what was she doing here now?

Although deep down she knew the answer to that question, she didn't dare say it out loud.

Pushing down her fear, she focused on her breathing, taking in deep breaths. Straightening her shoulders, she drew herself to her full height. She would be strong.

 _She had to be._

 **~~ Loki ~~**

Gambling was something Loki knew well.

He knew how to cheat.

How to _win_.

Who cares how you won? As long as you didn't lose.

After all, he always got what he wanted... until now.

That was one of the reasons why he detested Cole so much. Besides of course, his arrogant, smug, annoying attitude - these all came secondary to the main reason he hated him.

He had won Steff. Despite the fact Loki could tell she feared Cole too, she had taken his side. Cole, of all people! Just the thought of Cole's smug smile made him clench his fists, his vision clouding with anger. She should have been coming back with him, to London, and he knew she would have if it wasn't for that frustrating, stupid Shadowhunter.

The thought of punching Cole's face brought a smile to his own. He could feel the adrenaline rush through his veins, the thrill of it enticing.

Gambling was always a thrill too - it left you hooked until your pockets were suddenly empty, not a chip left in sight. But that would never happen to him, he was too good at cheating for that. Sure, sometimes he was caught and they would throw him out, his appearance dishevelled and rather wild, but there would always be a grin plastered on his face.

Because most of the time he got away with it. He beat his competitors at their own game.

Just like he would beat _him_ at his own game.

 **~~ Percy ~~**

It had taken him a while, but he'd finally done it.

The enormity of his actions hadn't quite sunk in yet. It was such a difficult feat, and probably worth a fortune – although he'd never actually planned on selling it.

Some would probably think it was a joke. _Percy Thorn creating a love potion_? Out of all people? He could almost hear their laughter, and he pressed his hands over his ears on impulse.

He had to admit though, it was rather amusing that he would accomplish such a thing with his track record. He hadn't exactly had much experience with girls, besides McKenna. Before her, love had seemed as elusive as unicorn blood, a rare and highly prized potion ingredient.

Maybe it was the universe laughing at him all along.

 **~~ Mason ~~**

They were all idiots.

The whole lot of them. Well, the majority of them at least.

Mason watched the daily dramas unfold at the Institute from a distance, sneering at the stupidness of it all. They complained of a relationship gone wrong, or a broken heart, or having lost a friend. It was so pathetic that he couldn't even fathom how they managed to get anything done.

It was as if he were watching them all from above, as if they were merely figures in a game. He looked down on them, because they weren't at his level.

They didn't train. They didn't hunt. They didn't even _try_. Although even if they did, he thought laughing to himself, they would still be incompetent.

What they were lacking was the drive, the determination to be the best. They were so tied up in the idea that they had to please and befriend others, that they didn't stop to think about how they could better themselves.

He was different.

His sweat was blood. His every hour spent practising, or fighting, or helping the Clave advance.

His head wasn't filled with airy fantasies which would never come true.

His dreams were fully obtainable, and he only had to hold out a hand to grasp them.

 **~~ Shae ~~**

Shae was well versed in the language of boys.

For her, boys were as easy to catch and ensnare as it was for her to put on a new bra.

Like a venus fly trap, she'd wait for her prey to come close. She'd beckon them closer with her looks and a sly smile. Close enough to kiss. And then they were as good as gone.

She knew the ways to make them moan in pleasure. To cause their lips to part slightly, and their eyes to close, in bliss.

She wasn't picky. She'd go for anyone, as long as they were decent enough looking, and not drunk. That was an important distinction for her.

The only thing she would never ever do, is fall in love.

 _Not that something like that would ever happen_ , she thought, laughing aloud.

She got bored too easily.

 **~~ Caspian ~~**

Caspian's favourite place to fight was with a wall behind his back.

Since his back was both his greatest weakness and his greatest shame.

One wrong twist of his back, or one wrong punch, and he could suddenly have pain shooting down its length, rendering him paralysed. He couldn't help but surrender to the pain, as it dragged him under its curtain of darkness.

All he could see was _red_ , _red_ , _red_ , and the knife cutting into his back, sawing in slow, calculated motions. All he could hear was the malicious laughter of the faeries, their amusement palpable. All he could taste was the metallic tang of blood, mixed with fear.

Then there were his parent's expressions when they saw him. The disappointment and disgust were clear, as if stamped on their faces. He would have preferred to die than witness that.

Two ugly scars now marred his skin, the lines jagged and raised. The only remains of his once glorious blue wings. His wings, which had been taken as a trophy. A _prize_.

If he'd been a painting, he would have been thrown out at the artist's earliest convenience. A ruined masterpiece, a shamed and disfigured faerie. What was the difference?

Suddenly jolted awake from his haunting dreams, Caspian sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow. Quickly pulling on a hood and slipping outside, he wandered around the streets, with no real aim or purpose. With his pale skin, vacant expression and dark circles under his eyes, he probably looked like a ghost. Not that he cared in the slightest.

The mundane world confused him, the Downworlders in the Downworlder Towns annoyed him. The Unseelie Court scorned him. He really had nowhere to go.

For every pure faerie he passed, his gaze was drawn to their wings like a magnet. He just couldn't tear his eyes away, no matter how much it made his back ache in memory. He had been pure and perfect like that once, before his world was ripped out from under him.

As horrible as the thought was, the same question always came to his mind. _Why couldn't it have been them, not him_? They probably wouldn't have even missed their wings.

For him, wings were a symbol of superiority, status, purity and power. Everything it meant to be a faerie. Without them, what was he?

So he got into fights, blaming others for his situation, even though they hadn't even been there. It was illogical, yes, but he couldn't prevent the thoughts any more than he could the pain in his back, or the haunting nightmares, each one repeating over and over.

Most of all, he hated himself for being so weak.

 **~~ Ember ~~**

She would never dream again. Sleep again. Drink or eat again. The smell and taste of food had faded to a distant memory, one she couldn't quite grasp, even though she tried her hardest. Dreams involved imagination, and she didn't know if she possessed that skill anymore.

Now she was more machine than Shadowhunter or human.

 _An automaton: a moving mechanical device made in imitation of a human being._

A machine

A machine

A machine

She had forgotten what it meant to be human. She was merely an imitation.

It was easy enough to plaster on a smile, for that was what people seemed to like. She could be friendly, kind, thoughtful, for she believed it was all in her programming. Would her true emotions fade over time? Sometimes, she didn't know what was real, and what was not. The programming had infected her mind, like a virus prodding and seeking out the weak points where it could take hold. Where it could reside. Sometimes she wondered if there would eventually be none of her left. If her old self would float away on the breeze like a dandelion, while only the machine remained.

More than anything, she wanted to be human.

 **~~ Caleb ~~**

Life was like a video game to Caleb. And he always knew the terminology and the rules, as well as how to win. So why not relate it to Shadowhunting? It was like a first-person game too, right? Only it was a game in real life.

The _Gamer_ – a Shadowhunter

The _Controller_ – your weapon

 _Training_ – studying for the upcoming exams (whoops, should've done that a while ago)

 _Level up_ – grow stronger through training

 _Power-Up_ – Marks, like an iratze for health

 _Boss_ – a greater demon

 _Noob_ – a mundane

 _High-resolution_ – the Sight

 _Respawn_ – demons coming back after being killed

 _Achievement_ – being recognised by the Clave

 _Don't die_. Well, that one was obvious enough.

He liked to envision himself as the superhero who always saved the day.

The definition of a superhero: _a benevolent fictional character with superhuman powers, such as Superman_. They always got the girl, had plenty of adoring fans and always looked amazing (I mean seriously, have you seen their muscles?), even straight after fighting the bad guys.

He supposed that in reality, he was more like the sidekick than the superhero. The one with no powers, but who was good to keep around for a laugh.

Deep down, he knew that as many times as he donned a cape, and tried to save the day, he was really only pretending. After all, he was only a mundane at heart. A _noob_.

 **~~ Ross ~~**

His twin sister kept telling him to 'get' a girlfriend. As if it was as easy as going to the beach and catching a fish. He supposed it was hypocritical that she told him such things when she didn't have a boyfriend herself, but deep down, he thought she could easily get one if she wanted to. Because she was pretty, smart, and good at flirting and conversing with the opposite gender. Ross, on the other hand, was more like a fish flailing around out of water. Out of his depth.

If a girl said a few words to him, or even looked his way, his mouth went dry and he found he couldn't swallow. And so no words came out, for if he couldn't swallow, then he couldn't talk. And if he couldn't talk, then he would just stand there staring and looking like an idiot. Even worse, an idiot who couldn't talk.

If he did manage to utter a few words, he was scared the girl would laugh at the ridiculous things he came out with. For his thoughts were jumbled and incomprehensible when he was frozen in place.

Girls really were from Venus, an entirely different planet. He didn't understand their species - what those looks they gave him meant, or if when they said 'hello,' if they really meant ' _hello_ ,' or something else entirely.

They were a species he had yet to understand.

But he doubted he ever would.

 **~~ Aaron ~~**

Mortals were curious beings. So full of strong, harmful emotions, which sometimes threatened to overwhealm them - regret, anger, resentment, guilt, sorrow, fear and hate. On the other hand, they experienced other ones as well - happiness, love, joy, pleasure, desire and satisfaction.

How they balanced them all, he didn't know.

They were very... intriguing. Like a puzzle he had to solve. He liked to taste the emotions through their memories. He savoured each delicious flavour - the negative emotions were sour, and the positive, infinitely sweet. Rolling them around on his tongue, he could appreciate the different textures and meanings. It was all so foreign to him.

What they never seemed to achieve was contentment. Every one of them searched for something more. The thing was, their lives were so short, that they could never find it. If in fact, there had ever really been anything to find in the first place.

Their lives were practically meaningless, but yet they still searched. They still dreamed and toiled and imagined. In reality, they would barely leave a mark. Their lives would burn out in one brilliant flash. A blinding light.

Then they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter! Some are really short, so sorry about that, but something is better than nothing, I suppose. Enjoy :)**

 **Jillessa Heronstairs's characters: Amie and Clarisse**

 **MortalShadowhunter's characters: Piper and Zander**

 **My characters: Hunter and Layla**

* * *

 **~~ Piper ~~**

The most desirable part about living at the Institute was definitely the drama.

Piper always kept an ear open for any gossip, savouring any particularly juicy news. She wasn't looking for just anything, she liked the deep dark secrets. The ones which probably shouldn't ever see the light of day, but managed to force their way out of the closet regardless. Those were the ones she collected and stored in her mind, like a child collecting seashells. It was a… hobby of hers. Most would think it was a bad one, she knew, but she didn't care. It was too much fun, after all.

The whispers seeped out from beneath closed doors.

" _She's pregnant."_

" _He cheated on her."_

" _They deal in dark magic."_

Besides, who could argue with her when she held all the power? Secrets, she had learnt, were far more powerful than money. In fact, she wasn't even afraid to outright ask someone if they had any secrets. Their reaction was all part of the game. If someone's eyes flitted away from hers, or they shifted uncomfortably, she knew they were hiding something from her. Almost everyone lied in response to her question, and it made her grin. It was just too much fun.

She was like a detective, sussing people out, and sifting the truth from the lies.

Not afraid to do anything for a bit of entertainment.

 **~~ Amie ~~**

While most people dreamed in colours, Amie dreamed in runes.

Each line was etched into her mind in black, as if drawn there by a paintbrush. Sometimes she stayed up all night, not able to sleep, as the runes took over her mind and every thought. She was never without her sketchbook, and in her free time, her hand drew the curves, the lines and the patterns, until she created a picture – a rune which could be used. Either for bad or good, it didn't matter, they were her creations.

Heading to the Downworld Towns, she would watch her creations change people's lives, making them impossibly strong, or less tired, or more desirable. She was a hero, in her own way. As long as she got something in return.

Carrying out trials on subjects, she would enhance and change the runes until they were perfect. Occasionally there were a few minor side effects – forgetfulness, nausea, vomiting or dizziness, but they were never enough to stop her in her quest. To her, the benefits always outweighed the risks.

Her runes were etched on their bodies, like a piece of artwork, where they would remain forever. Sometimes after drawing one on someone, she would step back and admire her handiwork. It was just so perfect.

She was an unstoppable force that the Clave could never bring down. For her customers are loyal, and she had many backup plans if something were to go wrong. And if any customers ever pestered her, she could always use a persuasion rune which she had created, or other, darker ones.

Most people said runes were only for Shadowhunters, that she was a liar, but she merely laughed in their faces. They had no idea of the power of her mind, which reached far beyond the influence of the Grey book.

This was only the beginning of what she would achieve.

 **~~ Hunter ~~**

Hunter would never forget the day he fell off a cliff. Or jumped, to be precise.

It happened when he was young – only seven or eight, and had been playing with another Shadowhunter his age. He'd told the other boy – Jason – that he wasn't afraid of anything, and he'd meant it. Jason had merely laughed, for he didn't believe him. Feeling the urge to prove himself, Hunter had walked over to the edge of the cliff, and looked down. It had seemed far for him, since he'd only been young, but heights didn't scare him.

Jason had called him back, expecting him to chicken out, but he held his ground. He knew he was invincible, after all. Pain didn't affect him, like it did others. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deep through his nose, and then made the plunge, tumbling through the air, and landing awkwardly on his arm. All he could hear as he fell was Jason's piercing scream and a crack when he hit the ground. The breath was knocked out of him, and he lay there panting for a little while. When his breathing returned to normal, he sat up, wondering why his arm was bent at such a strange angle.

Having heard the scream, Hunter's parents peered over the cliff, then came running down, yelling for him to 'hold on.' He merely shrugged nonchalantly and stood up, dusting off his shirt with his other hand. When they reached him, they cried in relief, and his mother pulled him to her, stroking his back and muttering comforting words. He frowned, wondering what all the fuss was about. Besides the strange angle of his arm, he felt fine. He never felt the pain, after all.

His parents had carried him back to the Institute, and called on a Silent Brother, getting him to do a thorough check. From what he heard, he gathered there was a few broken bones, some swelling, and some nasty bruises. When he'd tried to get up out of bed, his father had pushed him down, telling him he'd have to go easy for the next couple of weeks.

It turned out that 'going easy' meant having to stay in bed for ages. He soon got bored staring at the ceiling all day. He felt fine, so what was the problem? In fact, he felt so good, he was determined to get back to training.

It turned out his parents didn't like that idea, and resorted to locking him in his room to get him to stay put. It wouldn't be the first time. They always thought they knew best.

As he got older, he soon learned to love the thrill of the jump. As if the more times he did it, the more he could feel.

However, each time he felt just as empty as before.

 **~~ Layla ~~**

Layla soon found out it wasn't easy being the only female mechanic in the garage. She and a boy her age were both starting a traineeship at the same time, and it didn't take them long to develop a mutual dislike.

It all started at the end of their last shift of the first week. After collecting her belongings from her locker, Layla wiped the grease from her forehead – probably smudging it further – and didn't bother to change out of her uniform, before leaving. As she started down the street, the other apprentice, Lachlan, called her name, so she turned and waited for him to join her.

Looking her up and down, he raised an eyebrow. She stared back at him, guessing he must have been thinking about her dishevelled, dirty appearance. Sure, he was dressed in normal clothes again, but that didn't mean he didn't need a shower just as much as she did.

Sick of the silence, she asked, "What's up?"

"What's up?" Lachlan repeated, laughing. "Those clothes really don't suit you. I think you're working at the wrong place."

"Excuse me?" she said, immediately narrowing her eyes. She hadn't expected this at all, and she half hoped she was misunderstanding the situation.

He sneered at her. "You heard me. This is a men's job, do you see any other women working there? Women don't know how to fix cars. A pretty girl like you should go get an office job or have a baby or something. I bet you won't last another week here."

That was the last straw for Layla, and she clenched her fists, fighting to keep from Changing in her anger. The last thing she needed right now was to turn into a werewolf and attack him. So she took a deep breath, counting out a minute in her head, to allow her heartbeat to settle down first.

… _.58….59….60_

"I can do anything you can do, and better," she stated confidently, her voice determined. "I'll prove to you just how wrong you are. Mark my words."

And so she did prove it to him, every day.

As days turned into months, they tossed insults around like a ball at a tennis match. She called him a 'misogynistic pig' quite a few times, while he called her equally unpleasant names. It almost became like a daily ritual, since they had to work together so often.

On the last day of each week, she grinned at him, not bothering to hide her smugness, as if to say, 'I'm still here.' In a way she had to thank him, if it wasn't for him, she never would have been driven as much as she was to succeed.

In the end, he had to grudgingly accept she fit in there. Especially when their preceptor praised her over him, more often than not. They developed a sort of mutual understanding, and eventually he saw her as just 'one of the guys.' It came as a relief to her, and she enjoyed the feeling of fitting in, and the respect that came with it. If only she could change everyone's opinion like that.

Unfortunately, she knew the world was a big place, and she'd hardly made much of a change at all. However, politics weren't really her sort of thing. She wasn't a smooth speaker, she tended to lean towards bluntly telling the truth, and she knew that wouldn't get her anywhere in that sort of field.

So she made a pledge to herself, to do what she could day by day, in order to change the opinions of those she met. After all, one small pebble could still make a ripple in a large pond.

 **~~ Clarisse ~~**

Her vivid dreams confused her. Every night when she shut her eyes, the dreams were so real, that she felt like she could reach out a hand and touch them. Sometimes she wondered if they were just hallucinations, and there was something wrong with her.

Blink. _Midnight black hair_. Blink. _Hazel eyes._ No matter how many times she blinked, he was still there. Who was he?

When she first saw him in the Downworld Towns, she thought she'd gone crazy. It took seeing things to a whole new level. But he was… different. His clothes were stranger, and his eyes rimmed in black.

She saw other people in her dreams too, and she felt a strong connection to them. As if they were related by blood. Did she have a family? Were they still alive?

Although she tried hard to think of her life before the Hunt, she always came up blank. It was as if she walked to the edge of a cliff, and looked downwards, only to be met by everlasting darkness.

There were so many questions she wanted answered, but if she whispered them to the breeze, they would merely float away.

Climbing a tree, she gazed out at the Hunt base. Faeries flitted around like worker bees, carrying out their tasks with ease. Clarisse didn't feel like she quite fit in. Everyone else seemed to have a purpose, while she was left unsure, mostly keeping to the trees for company. One of the best things about trees was that they were constant, never changing. Growing for years and years, they had a steady grace that she craved. They weren't confusing in the slightest.

As days grew into months, she sought harder for answers, resorting to other means to find them.

Only then did she realise just how much she'd changed too.

 **~~ Zander ~~**

Zander was like a lone wolf.

A wolf which had been driven from the pack or left of its own accord.

Mainly keeping to himself, he avoided the other faeries in the Hunt, spending a lot of his time at the stalls, where he'd befriended a wolf. _His wolf_ , as he liked to think of it sometimes, although he knew the Hunt owned it.

He felt a strange connection to his wolf, feeling jealousy spark even if someone did as little as pat it. After all, he was the one who really understood the wolf. No one else could, quite like he did.

Sitting down in the stalls, the wolf nuzzled his hand, then curled up beside him. Zander knotted his hand in its hair, content to just sit and watch it sleep. There was a sense of loyalty and respect shared between the two of them.

On occasion the wolf had nipped at his hand – playfully of course - and he had a scar to show for it. But he knew the wolf would never purposely try and hurt him, so he was never scared.

Maybe the real reason they got on so well was because they could relate to each other. Both a lone wolf, both imprisoned inside the Hunt, never to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

**So… I don't know what to say other than I wrote this random crack fic really late last night. My amazing cousin gave me the idea, and then I just had to write it. I've never written anything humorous like this before… so yeah. Oh, and obviously this would never actually happen and they would never react like this. Haha. Just thought I'd post it purely for a laugh. :)**

* * *

 **~~ Cole and Steff – Look, I Got You a Present! ~~**

Knocking on the door of Cole's hotel room, Steff waited, trying not to fidget as she rocked back and forth on her heels in excitement. She'd been looking forward to doing this for so long.

The door swung open, and Cole looked down at her with a frown. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Not letting her good mood be dampened, Steff pushed past him, into the room. She turned to face him with a large smile, carefully pulling her bag off her shoulder. "I got you a present! It's something that can stay here with you and keep you company when I'm gone, so you won't be so lonely."

"I'm not lonely-" he started to protest, before stopping when he heard a noise coming from the bag. "Was that what I thought it was?" he asked in equal amounts of disbelief and suspicion.

Steff nodded, her grin widening as she opened the bag and pulled out a Bengal kitten, still only six weeks old and thrust it into his hands. "There you go! Isn't he cute?"

Cole looked down at the 'cute' bundle in his arms, and immediately held it away from his body. It was so tiny, and had a coat which was covered in stripes and spots, reminding him of a leopard. As he struggled to hold it, it scratched his arm with its paw and he growled at it. "What on earth possessed you to bring this creature here?"

She pouted, saddened by his reaction. "But Cole… you need another friend. And it took me so long to find him."

He gave her an unimpressed look. "Stephanie, I live in hotels for goodness sake. I'm not even allowed to have a pet. Besides, I don't have anything to feed it."

Pulling something else out of her bag, she dumped some milk and cat biscuits on the ground. "I've got that covered. There's enough here to last you a while."

Before he could protest again, the kitten hissed at him, its fur sticking up menacingly. He promptly dropped it on the ground before it could swipe its paw at him a second time. "Look, it hates me already."

Steff smiled at it, as she watched it explore the room. "I used to as well, and look at us now. He's just scared because you're a werewolf. He'll come around."

Cole frowned in annoyance when it jumped on his bed and curled up on his pillow. "That's my bed. I don't need cat hair all over it," he said as he went to shoo it away.

"Well, I must get back to the Institute, so I'll leave you two to get to know each other," Steff said with a knowing smile. Walking over to Cole, she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, before leaving.

Sighing, Cole stared at the cat folding his arms. The cat stared back with its large eyes, not blinking.

"What am I going to do with you?" he grumbled, going back to his papers.

He picked up his pen, before setting it down again and turning to face the cat. "You know what? I'll cast you out on the streets tomorrow. So don't get too comfortable."

The cat merely meowed in response, and went back to licking its paws.

 **ooOoo**

The next day, having picked up the cat and stuffed it in his bag – much to its displeasure – he walked outside and found a side alley where he would be able to dump it without being seen.

As he opened the zip, it poked its head out and meowed softly, looking up at him adoringly, as if to say, 'Don't leave me.'

"Stupid cat," he muttered under his breath, but he paused when someone walked past him down the alley. Maybe it wasn't the best place to let it go.

So he zipped the bag up again and walked down the street, heading for a shop where he wanted to pick something up.

No other opportunity presented itself for him to get rid of it, and he found himself reaching down and patting it absentmindedly as he headed back to his hotel, before catching himself, and shaking his head in annoyance. The zip seemed to have opened of its own accord.

"I'll get rid of you tomorrow," he whispered, as a promise to it, as he walked up the stairs to his room.

 **ooOoo**

Tomorrow came and went, with Cole being holed up in his room for over a week due to a threat on his life, so he had to put up with the kitten.

As time went on, he got used to its presence - its constant meowing, licking and jumping on his things. It was his only company, after all, since Stephanie hadn't visited in a while, and he had no one else to talk to. Sometimes he even found himself talking to it, and when he did, he immediately stopped himself, glaring at the kitten, as if it was his fault. The kitten merely stared innocently back.

The nights started getting colder too, and he pulled the blanket over him when he went to bed. As he stared at the ceiling in the darkness, he felt his bed move slightly and knew he had company. As the kitten snuggled under his blanket as well, for once he didn't push it off the bed and let it stay there.

His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that he was becoming too soft.

 **ooOoo**

Visiting weeks later, Steff returned, excited to see how Cole and the kitten were going. "Sorry I took so long," she said guiltily. "I've been busy doing-" she started, before stopping. "Are you even listening, Cole?" she asked in annoyance.

He looked up from where he'd been patting the cat. "Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. Look how much Chester's grown."

She stared at him in shock. "You named him… Chester? Why did you pick that name?"

Cole shrugged. "He looks like a Chester, don't you think?" He picked up a mouse toy, and waved it about teasingly, while Chester's eyes followed it, and he reached up with a paw to swipe at it.

Steff walked further into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I guess… I didn't really expect you to get so attached to him so quickly, I must admit."

"Are you jealous?" he laughed, looking over at her in amusement.

"A little bit," she confessed, biting her lip. "But that's okay."

Smirking, he strolled over to her and picked up her hands, before leaning down to kiss her on the lips. "Good. That's what I like to hear," he murmured.

Before he could kiss her again, she let out a sharp cry of pain. He glanced down to see Chester scratch her leg.

"I guess he's jealous too," Cole remarked, reaching down to pick him up and place him down on his desk. Chester proceeded to go back to licking his paw.

"Stupid cat," Cole laughed, shaking his head at it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: So, here's a chapter I've been working on when I've been on the train. :) It's about relationships between two characters, obviously some are romantic relationships, and some are not – more friendship, or something else. I added some song lyrics at the start which I think go well with them, and the name of the song is beside their names (credit goes to the respective singers). Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Cole and** _ **Steff**_ **– Monster Like Me**

 _I better let you go_

 _To find the prince you thought you found in me_

 _I better set you free and give you up_

 _Just wave and say goodbye and let you live_

 _Without a monster like me_

 **ooOoo**

 _She didn't think he was a monster._

He knew he was a monster. There was no doubt about it.

 _He wasn't all bad like they thought he was. They didn't know him like she did._

Sometimes, he imagined his heart to be the colour of charcoal, just like the meaning of his name. Cole: swarthy, coal-black, charcoal. It was ironic how perfectly it suited.

 _He wasn't a monster, he was only human. Besides, how could a monster care about her wellbeing? Or feel so warm and tender when he kissed her? There was still hope – there was always hope._

He had changed, he wasn't the Shadowhunter he used to be. He was darker, and more dangerous. In fact, he was turning into the demons he used to kill, in a way. He was condemned, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

 _When they'd first met, she'd pitied him. He had his secrets and his schemes, but besides those, he didn't have anything else. Anyone else. Of course, she'd hated him too, but that had changed over time._

She was stupid to visit him in the Downworld Towns. And reckless and naïve and irrational, but she didn't listen. No matter how hard he tried to push her away.

 _Despite everything, he meant something to her. She couldn't say what exactly, but she knew she'd miss him if he was gone._

The days were long in the Towns, and his bleak white hotel wall was the only scenery. But he got used to it quickly. Just like he got used to Steff's visits, even though he knew he shouldn't.

 _Was it really so wrong to want to be friends with someone like him?_

He was fine on his own. He didn't need companionship, he told himself.

 _She just didn't want him to be alone._

And deep down, he didn't want to be alone.

* * *

 **Shae and** _ **Caleb**_ **– Someone New**

 _Don't take this the wrong way,  
You knew who I was with every step that I ran to you,  
Only blue or black days,  
Electing strange perfections in any stranger I choose._

 **ooOoo**

 _He'd never met anyone quite like Shae._

She still hadn't forgotten the day when she'd first met him.

 _She was so alluring and hard to resist. Whenever he saw her, he seemed to lose the ability to say 'no,' even though he knew it wasn't always a good thing._

She hadn't really been with anyone like him before. He was geeky in a cute way, obsessed with his little games.

 _All his friends thought he was stupid for liking someone so different to him. Someone who would never really like him._

Shae knew she'd have to change that obsession. It would be her next could be just like her. Well, not quite as good, of course.

 _But he couldn't help his feelings. If he was smart he'd keep his distance, but he couldn't._

And he looked so much better in the clothes she'd picked for him, without his hair falling messily in his eyes.

 _Maybe he should just stick to his games. He wasn't awkward or uncertain when he played them. He was skilled, operating the controls like a pro – a hero._

Although she couldn't bear the sight of seeing most guys she'd been with again, maybe she'd keep him around… just in case she got bored.

* * *

 **Percy and** _ **Quinn**_ **– Bitter Sweet Symphony**

 _I can't change my mold  
no, no, no, no, no,  
I can't change  
Can't change my body,  
no, no, no_

 **ooOoo**

 _Quinn wasn't quite sure what it was about Percy that he hated._

Percy didn't know what Quinn's problem was.

 _Perhaps it was the fact that he was a Warlock, or possibly his stupid potions._

Quinn had hated him seemingly as soon as he'd met him. He wondered if he had done something to offend him. But no, there had been a demeanour of coldness right from the start.

 _Or maybe it was something else. Maybe deep down he was jealous of him. Of the way he got on with Aria so well. Or the fact that he was so good, and nice, despite everything._

He decided that talking to Quinn was more frustrating than talking to a brick wall, and expecting an answer. He was so smug and condescending, and seemed to think he knew it all, when really, he knew nothing.

 _How could someone be so ignorant and naive, yet so smart at the same time?_

But Percy tried not to lower himself to his level. It was better if he brushed off the remarks and ignored them. He didn't need to be mean back. So he tried his best, although sometimes it was hard. He got very close to snapping on some occasions.

 _Quinn never changed, his remarks were always the same. Always delivered in the same, smug tone, a smirk plastered on his face._

It was hard enough being a Warlock. It wasn't something he could change.

 _Maybe in the end he didn't want to change._

* * *

 _ **Zander**_ **and Clarisse – Promise**

 _And meet me there, bundles of flowers,_

 _We wait through the hours of cold_

 _Winter shall howl at the walls,_

 _Tearing down doors of time_

 **ooOoo**

 _For as long as he could remember, he'd preferred the company of animals to people._

She'd always loved the company of trees, just as much as she knew he loved his wolf.

 _But there was a small amount of people he didn't mind. Clarisse was one of the first that came to mind._

Zander was one of the few people she could call her friend. Someone she actually trusted.

 _There were days when they talked in the stalls, watching the wolf, and it almost brought a smile to his face._

He'd restrung her bow for her, and often talked to her, unlike some of the other faeries there.

 _Sometimes it was nice to have the company. He didn't mind it, not that he'd ever admit that._

Even though her memories and thoughts kept changing, Zander was the one constant in her life. The one person who would never change.

 _Sometimes he even caught himself laughing. That was rare lately. Eternity was a long time._

If she ever ran away, his friendship would be the only thing she'd miss.

 _It was hard to imagine the Hunt without her._

* * *

 _ **Caspian**_ **and Aspen – Dark Horse**

 _So you wanna play with magic_

 _Boy, you should know what you're falling for_

 _Baby do you dare to do this?_

 _Cause I'm coming at you like a dark horse_

 _Are you ready for, ready for_

 _A perfect storm, perfect storm_

 _Cause once you're mine, once you're mine_

 _There's no going back_

 **ooOoo**

 _The Hunt was strange. The faeries there were so different to what he was used to. Then there was Aspen…_

It was so much fun annoying him. His new plaything for the month.

 _He was so weird, and disconcerting, and touchy and…. Just strange all round._

He was a harder target than his other ones. He didn't like to be touched. But how could you kiss someone without touching? Or do other… equally desirable things.

 _He always felt uncomfortable around him. He didn't know what to do. Threats were the most natural method for him to use, but they didn't always work on him._

It was amusing, cute even, when he drew into himself and frowned. When he said 'Shut up,' because he didn't know what else to say. It was all a game to him, after all.

 _If only he'd leave him alone…_

He didn't know why he didn't trust him a bit more. He was an open book… most of the time.

 _He didn't want anyone to see his scars._

He wanted someone to join him in the darkness. The lure of it was always there, never fading.

 _Why couldn't he leave him alone? He didn't want to be known. He felt safer in the shadows… alone._

He was persistent, it was many of his dazzling qualities, so he wouldn't give up without a fight.

 _He was tired, and sometimes, he thought about giving in._

He always won in the end.

 _But he was too scared to let anyone get too close._

* * *

 **A/N: So, let me know if you'd like me to write another chapter like this, because I have some more pairs I could do, or update my story on Fictionpress (when I get time, of course). :)**


	5. Chapter 5 - One Eye Green, One Eye Black

_His eyes are the mirror to his soul._

One a light glassy green – the kind that draws you in. It made him seem bright, flirtatious, and flamboyant, with a hint of the sweet devilishness of a faerie.

The other a deep, brooding jet black – the kind that scares you away. It depicted the dark, hidden parts of him; the parts one should be wary of.

One blink, and he switches from one to the other, as quick as a fire ignites.

* * *

 _The Hunt was a brutal place. The sooner they learnt that, the better._

Drawing his short sword from its place at his side, Aspen circled the newcomer, licking his lips in delight and anticipation. He liked to play with the new recruits; they were always good for a bit of amusement after a long day.

Feigning a strike to the side, he laughed inwardly when the faerie cowered back, tightening his grip on the sword he'd recently been given. He wasn't a bad looking faerie – his brown hair curling around his pointed ears, and his eyes a startling blue, but he was much too cocky for his liking. Someone that new shouldn't be quite so full of themselves. So Aspen decided he should teach him a lesson, in style.

"Come on," he taunted, to get him to go on the offensive. "Are you going to run and hide, or are you going to fight? You're a Hunt faerie now, so you should choose wisely."

The faerie narrowed his eyes in a mixture of anger and determination, and charged at him, his sword aiming for Aspen's stomach. "I'll fight," he ground out, as he moved.

Aspen merely laughed mockingly – this time out loud – and stepped to the side, easily countering the strike and pushing the other sword to the side with his own.

"I thought Seelie faeries knew how to fight. It turns out I was wrong…" he drawled in mock regret, circling him once again.

The faerie's ebony coloured wings fluttered for a moment, the only sign before he charged once more, this time aiming for a different place.

Aspen blocked it yet again, and kicked the back of the faerie's kneecap, to knock him over. As he fell, the faerie grabbed Aspen's cloak, pulling him down to the ground too. Their swords lay discarded nearby, as they tumbled in the grass, hissing and scratching like animals.

His own translucent silvery black wings pressed against the ground uncomfortably as he rolled, and he could taste blood where he'd bitten his lip accidently when he'd hit the ground. However, he didn't mind, the metallic taste helped to sharpen his senses and keep him alert.

After a few moments of struggling, Aspen managed to gain the upper hand, and trapped the faerie underneath him. Pulling out a dagger concealed under his cloak, he held it to the newcomer's throat. "Too slow," he grinned, enjoying the wide eyed expression of the usually smug faerie. "But don't worry, you're too pretty to hurt too much," he said, before quickly removing the knife and leaning down to kiss him straight on the lips. It was a sneaky move, but he didn't mind much - spontaneous acts were always the most fun. Besides, someone like that newbie should feel honoured to get a kiss from someone as experienced and important as himself.

"Nice fight," Aspen said, satisfied, as he jumped up and offered a hand to the stunned faerie. "Nice fight, indeed."

* * *

 _He wraps his cloak of darkness around him, the way a mother wraps a blanket around a newborn._

The other faeries were never quite like him. They didn't _understand_ him.

Aspen had never had much of a problem with this, until the days became longer, and the nights even more sleepless. He realised that if he was lonely, it would be for _eternity_ , and that, he couldn't have. So he switched between different faeries, long enough to provide some entertainment, but short enough to not become dependent on them, or too attached.

There was another faerie there that was lonely, deep down. But he didn't mind – at least, he didn't seem to. Aspen had recruited Caspian himself. He used to be an Unseelie faerie. One of the worst of his kind, before he was thrown out, now wingless. Aspen supposed that was what made him so interesting. A heart breaking tale – as he saw it – was the most intriguing of stories. Caspian didn't like to talk about it though, and it was like pulling a splinter out of someone's foot, just to get him to say anything. He was dark, dangerously dark; but Aspen had never minded flirting with danger.

Aspen would tease him, and then jump far enough out of his reach to avoid getting into trouble. He was good at that – pushing people little by little, but not too far. Most of the time, anyway. They were an odd match as friends, the two of them. Aspen and his flirtatious, teasing ways, and Caspian with his brooding, mood swings. But somehow, Aspen found he was a member of the Hunt that he was drawn to, and not only because he was one of the only faeries who seemed able to put up with him.

It was an odd pairing, but somehow, it worked.

* * *

 _Sleep is like air; it slips through your fingers before you can grab a hold of it._

The Downworld Towns were always a bustling place late at night. Climbing along the rooftops, Aspen chewed on a sprig of peppermint, his cloak wrapped around his shoulders, and his sword in easy reach. There were certainly benefits involved with being one of the supervisors of the Hunt; one being that no one kept a close eye on his movements. He relished in the sense of freedom, and didn't mind taking advantage of it.

Looking down, the street lights illuminated the goings-on below – from the cheaters and drunks being thrown out of the taverns, to the harlots and groups of vampires roaming the streets for a meal. The night was still young in his eyes – it was rare that he bothered much about sleep.

He wandered around without a real goal in mind. Yes, if he happened along a faerie, he would try and recruit them, if they seemed useful enough. But sometimes, just sometimes, he let himself take a break, and explore. He couldn't work all day and night, and there were plenty of interesting characters he'd met on his explorations.

There was a sense of danger and allure to the Towns that no one could deny, and he certainly made the most of it.

* * *

 _He'd always found horses were loyal, while wolves were merely beasts._

The wolves growled and barked at him.

They bit at his sleeves, at the edges of his cloak, and he barked back. They never scared him, and he's always loathed them.

Why? He's never been sure.

Perhaps one reason was because a faerie he'd been fond of, Zander, had once picked a wolf over him. He'd defended the wolf with a degree of affection and protectiveness that Aspen couldn't understand. A _wolf_ , of all things.

Besides, the wolves had never liked him anyway. When he'd first joined, and he'd tried to take one out to hunt for something, it hadn't cooperated. It growled at him when he pulled it along by a leash, and he'd regretted it for days afterwards when his hand ached from where the wolf had nipped at it in warning.

They were stupid creatures, the wolves.

* * *

 _He could smell a fight approaching in the air._

In the morning dew on the leaves, and the ashes of the fire. In the sweat and the dirt and the grass. A fight was always looming on the horizon. Coming closer, and closer until he could almost reach out and touch it.

The camp had become unsettled, restless, and they all wanted the same thing. A _good_ battle.

It was what the Hunt lived and breathed – the fighting, the battlefield, the screams of the dying that came with it. There was something unrestrained and real about a full scale fight. The kind where you didn't have to hold back, or worry about politics or other useless things. It was just him, his sword, and his opponent. Live or die, it was up to him. Of course, the Hunt couldn't die - not like others could, anyway. Fighting was in his blood, in every vein in his body.

It wouldn't be long now until it was upon them.

* * *

 **A/N: So here's my chapter based on Aspen. Happy birthday, Scarlett! Hope you enjoyed this, and that you have a great day. :)**

 **Also, I hope I've done Aspen justice, since he's such an amazing character, and I'm sorry if I haven't.**

 **~ SilverJem5 (aka. Bri)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So, I was looking through my word documents, and realised I wrote this chapter last year, but never completed and posted it! So here it is, with the addition of the last two on the end (don't know what's happening with Aspen's, sorry), because why not?**

 **~~ Felix~~**

A letter was all the warning that Felix got about his family being taken.

He'd come home, only to find the old, yellowing paper resting there innocently on the table, signed in blood.

From that day forth, his life changed. _He_ changed.

He did whatever they told him to. Some things he did were terrible, unredeemable even. Spy on someone here, kill someone there, and infiltrate a place somewhere else. It didn't matter what they ordered, he'd to it to save his family.

They were all he had left.

He took to dressing and acting differently, calling people 'doll,' just to annoy them, and hiding his true emotions behind a smirk. After all, he was a totally different person, and he was merely demonstrating that fact to the world. Announcing it, as if from a loud speaker.

Eventually there came a time where he started to enjoy some of the things he did. Even found some enjoyment out of it. It would have sickened his family, he knew, to see him this way. But it was his way of coping with it, and it didn't matter how far gone he was, just as long as they were safe. If they were alright, then nothing else mattered.

He

was

too

far

gone

anyway.

 **~~ Rose~~**

Rose just wanted to be loved. Accepted, even.

Was that really so hard for everyone to understand?

She could be the ultimate gossip girl, innocently finding out all kinds of juicy secrets. In fact, she liked to study the language of people. Maybe it was all to fill the empty void in her own life. Maybe it was because she was just curious, or because people would actually _listen_ to what she had to say.

She wasn't nearly as stupid as everyone seemed to think she was.

She kept her conversations only skin deep, because that's all she knew how to do, and it's what people expected from her. How was their day? What did they do last night? Have they heard the latest gossip? _No? Well, let me tell you…_

She knew how to flutter her eyelashes at someone, smile sweetly, and flirt perfectly. But it never seemed to draw anyone in. Everyone thought she was superficial, that she didn't really know what she was talking about. That she was just a silly, naïve girl.

But she just kept smiling.

Her hair done in perfect curls.

Her eyes a sparkling gold, carefully lined with black eyeliner.

Her teeth a glistening white.

She just kept on smiling.

A perfect picture, till the end.

 **~~ Park~~**

Park's ability was both a blessing and a curse.

His mind was constantly bombarded with the future misery and suffering of others. It was hard to stay removed from it all. He knew he had to stay guarded, to keep up a barrier between them and him, because if he felt too strongly, it would all be too hard.

He had learned his lesson with Dylan, and had vowed never to make the same mistake again.

Crowded areas were overwhelming, he found. Everywhere he turned, there was a new person, with a new beginning and end to their life. Sometimes he just had to take a deep breath, and close his eyes for a minute.

His mind was always counting down.

So he skated, and skated, and skated. It was a simple and fun way to push his thoughts to the back of his mind, even if for only a little while. It was pure instinct, and he hardly had to think as his body manipulated the skateboard with skill.

When he skated, he didn't have to count the years until someone died, or until someone had an accident.

His mind was…

Free.

Quiet.

Released.

 **~~ Stefan~~**

Some people merely called him a mundane.

Others called him an idiot for putting up with Grigor for so long.

But the words never really affected him. He brushed them off his shoulder carefully, politely.

He knew he wasn't worthy of the Shadowhunters, but Grigor had picked him, and wanted Stefan to help him. That in itself was a special thing. It made him feel more worthy, if only a little bit. They'd created an unbreakable bond, and were friends. Brothers, even.

So Stefan decided he wouldn't let other people put him off his job. He was there for a purpose, and no one could change that. He desperately hoped that Grigor would never get sick of him, or move on.

Stefan always been good at languages. He was good at many things, actually.

Being polite.

Being loyal.

Being patient.

He was good, but not amazing.

He was always watching the world around him with a reserved curiosity, but not actually participating in the activities himself. Always taking one step behind.

And he was perfectly content to keep it that way.

 **~~ Zylan~~**

Most people seemed to think seeing ghosts and being able to talk to them was like something out of a cheesy movie. Where the ghosts were wandering, lost souls that needed to be set free.

But in reality, it was different. He learnt just as much from them, as they did from him.

The ghosts were his friends. Well, the pleasant ones, at least.

One thing he had learnt was that being a ghost was lonely. They all talked to him, because they needed some kind of human attention. They yearned to be acknowledged, to mean something.

The problem was that their loved ones eventually moved on, leaving them behind, to be wistful over something that no longer existed.

They whispered to him all the time. When he slept, when he ate, and when he went out. The whispers were strongest at the graveyard, where their bodies were buried.

He didn't mind listening, they were all very interesting. They moaned about their lives, or their deaths, or their loved ones. About anything and everything. Sometimes he'd reply, or sometimes he'd just listen.

Of course, some people thought he was crazy when he muttered things, seemingly to himself. Some people thought he was a loner, or just plain weird. But he didn't care too much. The ghosts were his friends.

He was a ghost whisperer.

 **~~Aspen~~**

When do sparkling smiles turn into strained imitations?

When do kisses turn into a meaningless gesture?

When does it matter whether people mean their words, or whether they're just pretending?

When does your usual entertainment become boring and repetitive?

When does flirting turn into a chore?

Who is it that you see in the mirror?

 **~~Caspian~~**

He'd always been influenced by his emotions more than others. _Rage. Anger. Jealousy. Hunger._

But they were always predictable. He wore them around him like a cloak, shielding him from the others out there.

That's why he felt betrayed when things changed. When he could feel the other faerie's hot breath on his neck, or sometimes when they kissed, he was _hungry_ and he wanted more. It felt like his own body was betraying him, because he'd always liked solitude in the past. And now sometimes, he craved something else. Something stupid and dangerous, which left him awfully vulnerable.

Because he knew he couldn't – _shouldn't_ \- depend on someone else.

But there were moments where he couldn't help it. Moments where he was vulnerable and he needed someone to pull him out of his stupid mess of a life. Because he couldn't always do that himself. It was like trying to drag yourself out of a pit that was too tall. It was possible to claw at the sides, trying to climb up, but it was a hopeless quest when you just fell back to the ground at the end anyway.

He still had the dirt stuck under his fingernails to prove it.


	7. Chapter 7 - Lashings and Blood

**Just a chapter on Caspian today, so hope you enjoy (or not because… you'll see. haha).**

* * *

When the time came, Caspian walked to the designated clearing proudly, not letting his guard down. It was the day of his 'punishment,' which was to be eleven whip-lashes on his back. His hair kept falling annoyingly in his eyes, and he pushed it back out of the way, his palms sweaty. Punishments, he could normally handle just fine, just like he had many times before at the Unseelie Court, but one to do with his back _scared_ him. His back was always unpredictable - it seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes - and he didn't doubt it would hurt like hell. But even worse than that perhaps, was that anyone there would _see_ the scars on his back. The scars which were both his failure and his biggest weakness. He didn't want to be known in the Hunt as 'the faerie who'd lost his wings.' As if losing your wings was as easy as misplacing something. He'd come to the Hunt to escape all that, and to start afresh. Well to try to, anyway. Or, he reconsidered, maybe he'd just had nowhere else to go.

Reaching the clearing, he felt his mood darken further when he saw a couple of small groups of faeries waiting around. Sure, it wasn't the whole Hunt, but he knew better than most how quickly rumours spread around small communities like this. Sol, the supervisor he hated with a passion, waited in the middle, watching him. Gritting his teeth, Caspian continued until he was in front of him, trying to keep an unfazed demeanour. He wouldn't let himself appear weak about it. There was no way he'd give Sol the satisfaction of any kind of reaction.

His gaze flickered to Sol's bright red translucent wings snaking with black veins for a moment, swallowing when he felt a sour feeling in his throat. _Stupid Seelie Court faeries,_ he thought to himself, shifting his gaze back to his face and staring at him impassively. As if he could read his thoughts, Sol's hazel and black eyes narrowed for a moment, before he turned away, throwing a handful of blood red stones on the ground. Caspian took a sharp breath, knowing what was coming. He'd seen enough whippings in the Unseelie Court, and it was no different there. He watched as a twisted tree the colour of blood started to grow in the seed's place.

As it grew, Sol turned to address the spectators. "Today Caspian is punished with eleven lashings across the back to teach him, and everyone here, a lesson. He has not listened to his superiors, he's gotten into numerous fights, he's tried to cross to the part of the Downworld Towns where you've been told you're not allowed to go and-"

Blocking out Sol's arrogant voice and venomous words, he allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment to collect himself. Sol could say all he wanted to, but it wasn't going to change him. He _wouldn't_ be beaten in this game and it would take more than this to break him.

Opening his eyes again, Sol then turned to look at him expectantly, telling him to prepare himself, and Caspian knew exactly what he wanted. He raised his hands to undo the clasp of his cloak, watching it fall to the ground. As his hands lowered to the hem of his shirt, he hesitated, his nervousness slowly stealing both his breath and his thoughts. Annoyed, he growled low in his throat, before ripping his shirt up over his head, and tossing it to the ground beside his cloak. As he turned away towards the tree, he heard a collective intake of breath from the faeries, and he saw the hint of surprise in Sol's eyes, before his expression turned to disgust as he stared at his back, in a sort of horrified fascination. He could just hear their whispers of 'wings' and 'gone' and 'scars,' and it sickened him. Ignoring everything and everyone, he shut off his thoughts, walking to the tree, and kneeling slightly to position himself, and place his hands on the trunk of the tree.

"Just hurry up and get it over with," he muttered loud enough for Sol to hear, his impatience palpable.

Someone leaned down to push a hard leather strip in between his teeth for him to bite down on, and he was grateful for that, at least. Tensing to ready himself, his heart hammered as he waited for it to start at any moment, not wanting to be caught out, but also not wanting to turn his head to see.

A swift whistle through the air was his only warning, before the whip came down on his back. He arched back in pain for a moment, his thoughts screaming out any swear or curse words he could think of, although outwardly he kept mostly silent, biting down on the leather, hard. It came down again and again, and he could feel it bite into his back, blood trickling down it, and onto the grass, staining it red. But he couldn't lose count - he _had_ to keep count because he didn't want to pass out. He had to get through every single one and show the bastards he could. He was glad his grunts were muffled by the leather, and he didn't move, trying to take breaths in between each one. There was a steady rhythm of pain, and he closed his eyes, thinking of his wings being cut off all those years ago. This hurt like hell just like that, and it was perhaps worse as the two combined themselves in his mind, the pain multiplying and mutating.

It was finally up to nine lashes then, and he'd managed so far, but his mind became cloudy, the pain overwhelming his senses. His hands gripped the wood tight and sweat beaded on his forehead. He tried to push down the chocked sound in his throat. _Just two more, just two more, just two more_... he repeated like a mantra in his head, wanting - no _needing_ \- to get through it. He had to walk away from it himself in the end, and pretend he was perfectly fine, like he'd always planned to. But as the tenth one cut into his back savagely, his mind went black…

And

His

Thoughts

Just

 _Disappe-..._

* * *

Waking up with a gasp, the pain split his head for a moment, before something felt wrong, his thoughts jumbling up. _His… his wings…. gone... What had…?_ Everything came rushing back to him, and he groaned, feeling sick. Of course that had been years ago.

Moving only his head, he glanced around, to try and get his bearings, finding he was on his stomach on some kind of stretcher in the medical supplies tent. Moving just an inch made his back flare up, and he had to take a few deep breaths and grit his teeth, before slowly, ever so slowly, pushing up on the ground with his hands, to sit up. Once he'd achieved that, he grabbed the closest thing nearby, using that to pull himself up.

After taking a few quick breaths, he lifted up his shirt just as slowly, his hand tentatively pulling at the bandages running around his back and his middle. In a moment of rage, he grasped at them, ripping them off, and probably ripping some skin off with them. He put his fist in his mouth for a moment to muffle his scream at the sharp pain, and his frustration too. The bandages were stained with blood, and he tossed them to the ground. Then he pulled his shirt back down, feeling it stick messily to the blood remaining on his back, before picking up his cloak, not yet daring to put its heavy weight back on.

Pushing open the flap of the tent, he went out, trying to ignore the pain. He couldn't stay in there, or around base when he felt trapped and claustrophobic, and he found himself instinctively moving towards the direction of the lake, one of his favourite places to go. The hike up to it was pure agony, but he pushed through it, the image of the lake calming his thoughts sightly. Plus he knew he wouldn't encounter many other faeries there who'd ask questions about it. Well none besides the only one who actually mattered. But as he stared at the place in the distance, he noted with an equal sense of relief and disappointment, that he was there alone.

Once he finally reached the lake, he paused at the edge, turning his back to it slightly. Carefully starting to pull up his shirt, he tilted his head to the side to try and see the reflection on the water. The fabric had stuck to parts of his back and the healing salve, and he had to pull it off, moaning loudly. Then he could just see it in the reflection - the still angry, bright red lines crisscrossing over his older scars. The dried blood coating them. He thought to himself, in a kind of dark and twisted amusement, that he'd managed to mess his back up even more. He doubted it could get much uglier.

Then, his expression twisted in disgust at it, and his inability to keep from passing out, and he turned away, letting his shirt drop back down. _Pathetic_ , really. More than pathetic.

But then he paused and let out a bitter laugh.

Perhaps the ugly 'masterpiece' of his back suited him.


	8. Chapter 8 – Halloween Fun

**A/N: I was inspired by the Halloween picture, and as promised here is the crack fic chapter I wrote (even if Halloween was ages ago… whoops)! In the end it's not really crack fic, I suppose, except for the fact that they went to the party. hahaha**

* * *

Pacing around the lake, Caspian turned around at the sound of footsteps, unsurprised to see Aspen making his way over. It was rare that anyone else ventured to the lake, if they indeed knew about it. What was surprising though, was Aspen's strange outfit.

"What the hell?" Caspian muttered when he was close enough to hear, just staring for a moment.

"Can you guess what I am?" Aspen grinned, twirling around to give him a better view.

Caspian stared at his rather over-the-top looking costume with a raised eyebrow. From his old fashioned looking outfit sporting a cape with a raised collar, to his black hair tied in a ponytail with a ribbon, to the fake blood dripping down from his mouth and the fangs poking out from his lips.

Thinking back, it suddenly made sense. "Are you going to that party you've been going on about for ages?" he sighed, finally piecing it together. Aspen had been nagging him about coming for a while, and he'd always brushed him off, disinterested. The thought of parties and crowds had never appealed to him.

Aspen giggled, nodding. "Yes, I'm a vampire. Don't I look dashing? Pretty, gorgeous, bloodthirsty, whatever you'd like to call me. And it's a _Halloween_ party. Remember I told you what that was?"

"Some stupid mundane custom," Caspian muttered under his breath, ignoring the first part and making a face.

"Now, now, don't be like that," Aspen replied, clicking his tongue. "I wanted you to accompany me. You are going to, right? Don't worry, I've got your costume sorted. That's compulsory."

"I said I wasn't going," he retorted, quickly. "And I'm not wearing some stupid costume."

As Aspen drew closer to him, he watched him cautiously and folded his arms, not trusting what he was about to do.

"I just…" Aspen murmured in a low tone, reaching up to gently tuck some of Caspian's blonde hair behind his ear, "Need you to come," he finished, reaching up to place something on Caspian's head, before wrapping a furry scarf around his neck. Getting out some kind of black pen, he held Caspian's chin in a tight grip to stop him from moving as he protested, drawing on his cheeks and his nose quickly, before letting go.

Reaching up to pull whatever it was off his head, he paused when Aspen caught his arm, stopping him. "Now, now, you can't take it off until the party is over." Leaning forward, Aspen brushed his lips against his cheek, tightening his grip on his arm. "Okay?"

Grumbling low in his throat, he averted his eyes, pulling at his arm to try and get it free. The familiar scent of peppermint overwhelmed his senses, and he hardly felt like wasting his breath on arguing.

"Good," Aspen smiled when he didn't protest, letting go of his arm, instead taking hold of his hand to pull him along.

As they walked past the lake, he glanced over to see his reflection, staring. On his head were two cat ears, a blonde colour to match his hair. And on his face, there were whiskers drawn, and his nose was coloured black. "What the-…" He started, before Aspen interrupted him.

"It's cute," Aspen grinned. "And I think a cat rather suits you. You're very temperamental."

"Hardly," he scowled, not about to agree that he was like an animal, particularly a common mundane pet.

"A wild one," Aspen mused aloud, reaching a hand out to ruffle his blonde hair, pretending to pat him. "Definitely wild."

Leaning away from his hand, he made a face, watching the path ahead of him. "Shut up."

As Aspen led the way to wherever the party was at – Caspian really had no idea, although he assumed it was somewhere in the Downworld Towns – he chatted about parties, and all the people that would be there to see how pretty he looked. Caspian merely sighed, his hand itching to reach up and pull off the ears, thinking he looked ridiculous with them on. However, Aspen watched him much too closely, and he decided there wasn't much point in it – it wasn't like he'd know anyone at the party anyway.

When they reached the Downworld Towns, it wasn't hard to figure out where to go, as all sorts of species walked around the streets in costumes, all heading in the same direction.

"Because the party is so popular, it's invite only," Aspen lowered his voice to say, looking proud of himself for managing to obtain one.

Caspian glanced at him sidelong. "And you got invited how, exactly?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know," Aspen smirked, pulling him towards some open doors. Studying the building, Caspian recognised it as a tavern, although tonight it was done up strangely for the theme, with skeletons, witches, floating glowing orbs – likely enchanted by Warlocks - and other strange decorations.

As they approached the person at the door, Aspen showed the invite, and they were ushered inside.

The crowds were worse than he'd imagined, and the noise they generated made him want to go back to the forest, just for the peace and quiet. Looking uncomfortable, he glanced around at the Downworlders dressed up in costumes – it seemed everyone had made an effort. It was odd really, seeing so many species in one place. Normally werewolves and vampires were repulsed by each other, going to different places. This however, seemed like an open invite, for any species.

Noticing his discomfort, Aspen drew him over to one side, so that they had the wall to his back. "You'll get used to the noise," Aspen assured him, glancing around with bright and eager attention. "And remember, it's only for a couple of hours, like I promised."

Caspian nodded, pushing down his unease and focusing on him, deciding he looked much more at ease. Turning his head to the side, he flinched away when something brushed against his head. He looked up, seeing the variety of fake spiders and insects hanging by strings from the roof. He muttered something under his breath, ripping the spider down in annoyance, and tossing it to the ground.

"What did the poor spider ever do to you?" Aspen joked, reaching over to fix up his cat ears, from where they'd been knocked.

"It was annoying," he retorted, causing Aspen to let out a peal of laughter.

"I'm thirsty," Aspen stated. "Are you? I'll get us some drinks from the bar. It's a tavern after all. Do you have a preference?"

Caspian considered, resisting the urge to stop him from going, wondering for a moment whether he'd be able to find him again in the crowd. "… Just whatever faerie drink they have here is fine," he replied, finally.

Leaning forward, Aspen pressed a kiss to his cheek, before pulling back. "I'll be right back," Aspen said with a wink, before disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

Weaving through the crowd with ease, Aspen threw people a flirtatious smile as he started towards the bar. A vampire dressed as a ghost looked over at Aspen's vampire-mocking costume in disgust. Looking undaunted, Aspen blew him a kiss, before continuing, brushing against people's arms as he pushed his way through. He didn't like vampires much in reality, but it was certainly fun to dress as one.

When he finally made it to the bar, he leaned against it, ordering two faerie drinks. Turning to scan the crowd again, his grin grew when he noticed a familiar face. "Well, well, who do we have here?" he drawled, staring at Finn.

Finn looked adorable dressed as a playboy bunny, one of his rabbit ears flopping to the side, while the other stood up straight. The purple streak in his hair stood out strangely with the pink of his outfit and bowtie, but somehow it worked.

"I would hate to miss the party of the year," Finn joked easily, with his trademark grin. "It's certainly a pleasant surprise to see you here."

"Likewise," Aspen replied, stepping forward to run his hand across the pink bowtie on his neck, pulling the bow tighter. His hand then drifted downwards, over the skin on his chest exposed by the open neck of his costume. "Now, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know," Finn said airily, looking pleased at his actions. "Making new friends, kissing complete strangers, eating lollies, those kind of things."

Aspen smiled, matching his carefree manner. "Now that sounds like fun."

"You can join me, if you like," Finn said, his expression keen and excited, as he leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before licking some of the fake blood off teasingly.

"Careful, or I might suck your blood," Aspen warned him jokingly. Tilting his head back and laughing, he gave Finn's cheek a quick kiss, before pulling away when his name was called for his drink order. "Sorry, not tonight, sweetheart. I have other company."

Looking disappointed, Finn watched as he placed some coins down on the table, before taking the two drinks. "Hmm, lucky person," he said, taking a step back. "But alas, I can find myself someone else, I'm sure."

"Have fun with that. I'll come visit you sometime," Aspen said with an endearing smile, before starting away into the crowd again. Someone bumped into him, and he spilt some of one of the drinks onto his shirt, sighing in dismay. "Now I'll smell sweet," he laughed, continuing on.

Approaching the other side of the room, he scanned the people lining the wall for some familiar blonde hair, although he failed to spot him. His smile turned to a frown as he wondered where Caspian could have gotten to. It wasn't like him to wander around the crowds alone.

Walking over to the place they'd previously been standing, he glanced around for someone to ask. A girl with golden blonde curls chatted away nearby to a faerie with wings. The girl was dressed as a princess with a pink dress and a tiara, and he rolled his eyes. It was hardly Halloween material. Judging by what he'd heard about Halloween, anyway. He'd never been into blonde girls, either. The faerie guy didn't seem to be dressed up, just wearing a black leather jacket and boots. As Aspen watched for a moment, he was almost impressed by how she just couldn't shut up, almost as if her mouth worked of its own accord.

"Excuse me," Aspen said pleasantly, walking forward to tap on her arm with a drink, since his hands were full. The girl's face lit up at the prospect of someone talking to them, while the faerie looked disinterested, eyeing him a little cautiously. "Did you see where a faerie with blonde hair went? He had cat ears and his eyes are-…"

"Silver and black, right?" the girl nodded, eagerly, pointing to the left. "Yes, these two guys started talking to him, so he went off that way, and they followed. I think he looked annoyed."

"Hmm," Aspen said, turning away. "Thanks again, sweetheart."

Starting in that direction, he finally got a glimpse of cat ears and blonde hair in the distance. Pushing his way through, he studied the two guys talking to him. They were identical twins obviously, and they were dressed as-… well, he wasn't quite sure. They certainly hadn't gone to a lot of effort.

"Excuse me, are you trying to steal my faerie away?" Aspen asked, butting into their conversation, and passing Caspian a drink, before resting a hand against his arm pointedly.

They turned their attention to him, their expressions equally interested. "As if. Who are you? Are you here with _him_?" they asked, glancing at Caspian, who still looked rather annoyed.

"Yes, and he's mine. So, hurry along boys," he said serenely, tilting his head to the side.

"He doesn't look like the type to hang out with you," one of the twins laughed, amused.

Scowling, Caspian glared at them, tugging on Aspen's arm to pull him away from them, losing them in the crowd.

"I thought you'd be waiting for me," Aspen said, berating him. "And here you are, going off with new friends?"

"They're not my friends," he said, sounding irritable. "They were annoying me."

"Well, don't worry, I'm here to save my damsel in distress," he grinned, amused by his joke.

Caspian rolled his eyes, less than impressed. He took a sip of his drink, and Aspen followed suit, raising his glass to his lips.

"Parties like this are exciting, aren't they?" Aspen said, as he glanced up at the decorations lining the ceiling.

Caspian stayed silent as he took another sip, and Aspen assumed he disagreed.

Resting a hand against Caspian's back lightly, he leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I'm glad you could come."

"It's fine," Caspian said quickly, looking uncertain of what to say. "It's not like you gave me much of a choice, anyway."

"Oh, you know you love it though," Aspen giggled, resting his head on his shoulder. He felt drunk on life. Or perhaps he was just drunk from the faerie drink. He didn't mind either way though, because it was fun with the lights flashing and the room spinning, and all the talking and laughter.

They stayed for a couple more hours chatting and drinking and watching the rambunctious atmosphere. Until Caspian finally managed to convince him to leave, slipping an arm around him to support him when he stumbled.

"This was fun, we should do it again sometime," Aspen said cheerfully, his hand reaching up to play with some of his blonde hair. "It wasn't so bad, right?"

"Maybe," Caspian said, guiding him along the path, and keeping on the lookout as they made their way through the Towns. "If you survive tonight."

Aspen giggled again, missing Caspian reaching up to take off the cat ears, and tossing them onto the ground. "Everyone would be very upset if I didn't. Would you miss me?"

Caspian was so silent for a while as they made their way through the trees, and he was so, so tired, that as his eyes dropped closed, he missed his reply.

"Of course I would."


	9. Chapter 9 - In the Past

**A/N: I decided to write a few chapters on things I'd imagine happening in some of the character's pasts when they were younger. So here's the result…**

* * *

 **~~Caspian~~**

As a coming of age ritual in the Unseelie Court, the young faeries were pitted against each other in a competition. It was vicious and ferocious and unforgiving, especially to those who failed. You could draw blood – as much as you wanted – and no one would stop you. Those who died were considered weak, feeble. Only the strongest would survive the Unseelie Court, after all.

Caspian had watched the matches nearly all his life, and he'd waited eagerly for his own turn to prove himself. It was that thought that kept him going during long days of training, when he'd push himself past his exhaustion. He had to make his family proud, and he longed to be recognised for his skills. Even the Unseelie King made an appearance to watch on some days, and that in itself was a great honour.

His chosen opponent that day was nicknamed Fox, and as they waited a few feet apart, they sized each other up silently. He took in his opponent's weapon of choice, a mace, and studied his grip and stance.

Caspian's features then settled into a sneer. His grip tightened on his staff, and his wings stretched out in excitement, just wanting to start already.

The crowd gathered around in a circle around them, boxing them in. Circling his opponent, Caspian faked a lunge, snickering under his breath when Fox flinched back. Looking embarrassed and annoyed when the crowd laughed, he ran at Caspian, his deadly mace raised and ready to cut into his skin. But Caspian merely blocked it with the top end of his staff, not breaking his stride, and Fox retreated again.

It went back and forth like that, until Caspian grew bored, managing to cut at Fox's hand with the blade on the end of his staff, causing Fox to swear and hold the mace in one hand. It was a good thing for his opponent that they were trained to be ambidextrous in fighting from a young age. Blood dripped onto the ground, running down his right hand as he clutched it to his chest. But he kept swinging the mace at him, one time managing to snag the side of Caspian's arm with it, causing a stinging sensation that he quickly ignored.

Fox was quick, and he managed to swing his mace up, blocking Caspian's staff, and simultaneously grabbing the staff with his injured hand. Caspian growled at the blood staining his staff, moving slightly closer so that he could kick at his kneecap, causing Fox to fall to the ground, although he dragged Caspian to the ground with him. Discarding their weapons – since they were useless at this close range - they tussled on the ground, Caspian pulling the dagger into his hand, from where it was concealed on his belt. Fox simultaneously clutched his own knife, and they rolled and stabbed at each other, grabbing and scratching with their free hands. A bloody hand pushed at his eye, red covering his vision for a moment, before he pushed it away, wiping the leftover blood off with the back of his hand. His own hand then went back to Fox's face, the nails digging in and leaving marks.

As they rolled to a stop, the idiot reached for his wing, and Caspian came up quickly with his dagger, pushing his hand down, and his dagger into it. It cut through muscle and tendons, effectively pinning it to the ground. Fox screamed, panting as he tried to pull the dagger out. Ignoring him, Caspian sat up, pulling himself to his feet triumphantly. Moving quickly as Fox swiped at his legs with his knife with his uninjured hand, Caspian jumped to the other side. He kicked out with his foot against Fox's temple, knocking him unconscious. Then he leaned down and calmly pulled the dagger out of Fox's hand, wiping it on his shirt, before returning it to the sheath at his side.

Looking down, Fox's shape was still, his breathing slow and even. As the adrenaline still pumped though his veins, singing out for another fight, Caspian bent down to pick up his staff, before straightening. The crowd roared to congratulate him, and he smiled slowly, surely.

He never doubted that he'd win the fight.

 **~~Steff~~**

A chorus of loud boyish voices in the hallway alerted Steff to the fact that her brother had friends over.

 _Again_.

Their parents never minded, turning a blind eye when he had the day off from his studies. As far as they were concerned, he could do what he liked. He was their prized child like that, and he could do no wrong. Apparently, it was just the process of him being a boy, doing such things. Or at least, that's what they told her. They said she shouldn't be jealous, just because she had no friends. It was hard to make friends though, when she wasn't allowed to go out much, and all the other children her age were far ahead of her in their Shadowhunter training.

Sighing, she started to the library, running a hand along the spine of the books, and looking up at the tops of the bookcases in wonder. She had her hiding places in the library, where they normally couldn't find her. Picking out a book – one of her favourites – she ducked under the table, leaning her back against the wall and opening it, her eyes being drawn to the pages as if they were a magnet.

A while passed like that peacefully, before the shouts in the halls grew closer, and she sat up straighter, her anxiety growing. If they found her there, they'd make her do things. They always did.

Swallowing, she sat very still as they looked around the library for her. Each time they yelled something out to each other, she jumped, startled, and she tried hard to keep her breathing quiet.

She only had to hold on a little longer until they gave up and-…

Then her hopes were dashed when hands reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her out from under the desk. Making sure she left her book beneath the desk so that they wouldn't hurt it, she stood up, taking in a quick breath as she watched them cautiously. The three friends had bright eyes, excited with their discovery, while Loki looked bored, standing to the side. She knew he hated it when she got all the attention, not that she wanted it.

"Steff," one of them, who's name she was sure was Michael, grinned. "We've been looking for you. Why didn't you answer?"

When she didn't answer his question, another one laughed. "She's scared. Poor Steff, hiding under the desk because she's scared of a few boys."

Not knowing what they'd order her to do this time, she tilted her head downwards, letting her hair fall in her face, to hide her embarrassment.

Some footsteps started towards her, and she froze. "Steff," Michael commanded, looking thoughtful, his grin widening. "Get that book out that you're trying to hide, and show it to us."

Her heart hammered in her chest in apprehension and dread, and she paused for a moment. Then the curse became harder to evade, and her foot took a step forward without her consent, and then the other followed, so that she was in front of the desk. Bending down slowly, she picked up the book and straightened, holding it out for a second for them to see, before clutching it to her chest, as if to shield it from them.

"Tell us what it's called," he demanded, watching her in amusement.

She muttered the title under her breath, biting her lip.

He rolled his eyes and they laughed. "Tell us _louder_."

"It's… Alice in Wonderland," she repeated louder this time, tightening her grip on it. "Not that you'd know it."

"That sounds like a silly book," one of the other friends stated. "Why would you read it? It's got nothing to do with Shadowhunting."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "It's stupid."

Looking annoyed at his friend's antics, Loki stepped forward, folding his arms. "Steff," he said, in the tone that she dreaded, knowing it meant something bad. "Rip the pages out."

Horrified, she raised her head to look at him. "No, please take it back," she said, her hands growing sweaty as she tried to delay for as long as she could.

"Come on, it's not that hard, right?" Michael mocked, the boys' enthusiasm bouncing off each other. "You just go like this," he said, pretending to tear the pages of an imaginary book, in his demonstration.

Raising a hand to her mouth and trying to keep from being sick, she focused on pushing down the compulsion to obey. But it was no use, she could never avoid it. Her hand shook as she stared at him, and she quickly put it behind her back.

 _She had to do it, she couldn't stop it, and, and…-_

Lowering her hand to her book, she opened it up, taking a few pages in her hand, and then ripping them out, as gently as she could.

"More. Rip out more," they all demanded, their voices raising in excitement as they watched.

Closing her eyes, she bit back a sob, reaching for more pages, tearing them out. But it was never enough for them, and they wanted more, and _more_. As she ripped them out, tears ran down her cheeks, falling on the pages. She felt like a part of her was dying with the book. It may have seemed stupid to them, but it was one of her favourite books, and she'd always treasured reading it again and again, the spine worn from all its use. And even though a new book would never replace the one she'd grown up with, she knew that her parents would never buy her a copy to replace the one missing in the library.

Finally all the pages were gone, and she stared at the remains of the book, her hands shaking and her throat closing up. Sinking to the floor, she held it in her arms, relieved when they started talking about lunch, and left her there. It wasn't a surprise to her, she'd known they'd lose interest in her eventually.

They always did.

The worst part though, was that sometimes her hands were traitors. Sometimes her body was a traitor.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

 **~~Connor and Cadyn~~**

It was only a couple of weeks away until the Kodeki twins were meant to go and start their training at the Shadowhunter Academy.

While it had been exciting receiving the acceptance letter in the mail, they were more excited about travelling somewhere new, then the less appealing prospect of talking to other kids their age, and listening to teachers.

Since they'd been young they'd known that they wanted to be parabatai. Before they went to sleep, they'd chat about it excitedly, wondering what it would feel like to be bonded even closer – to be bound together by oath in front of the Council. Of course, they'd already happily lay down their lives for each other, but this seemed real and the possibility of being even closer than they already were was fascinating.

That day was the one they'd decided to inform their parents of this fact, and they started down to the Institute kitchen, their outfits and walk just as identical as they were. The funny thing was that they didn't even think their parents could tell them apart sometimes, they were _that_ similar. Often Connor would be called Cadyn, and Cadyn would be called Connor. They didn't mind it though – they found it amusing, really.

Making it to the kitchen, they cleared their throats to get their parent's attention. "We'd like to become parabatai," they stated simultaneously, their parents glancing between them in surprise, and frowning, as if not sure what to make of it.

Not liking their hesitation, Connor continued with, "We're going to Idris for the Academy in a couple of weeks, so we could leave early and-

"-Get it done beforehand," Cadyn said, finishing his sentence like normal.

The silence dragged out, and they felt nervous and uneasy, glancing at the other in the corner of their eye.

"No," their father said, simply, sighing as if he didn't know how to talk to them.

"Why not?" they asked, looking annoyed. "It's not that hard-"

"We said no," their mother agreed. "You're close enough already. Glued at the hip all the time. We don't need you to be even closer."

"In fact," their father continued, "You're already practically the same person. You need to make some friends at the Academy, do you understand? You need to have your own friends and interests, and be your own person. I'm sorry, but we can't have you becoming anymore closer, you hardly need to be parabatai."

Hating the disappointment in his brother's eyes, which he was sure was mirrored in his own, Cadyn scowled. "That's not fair. We're allowed to make these decisions ourselves."

"I'm afraid we won't allow it. You're not leaving any earlier, and you're to go straight to the Academy, do you understand?"

Swallowing down his annoyance, Connor looked away, knowing they'd never agree. They'd always only seen things from their own perspective, not liking how much time they'd spent together. Maybe they were just jealous.

But over the years, their parents never changed their opinion. Never budged on their position, even a little.

And no matter how many times they asked and whinged and complained, the answer was always the same.

" _ **No**_."

 **~~Aspen~~**

Sometimes Nyx's anger seemed like a hurricane, blowing through and terrorising people, before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Aspen swore he could feel it sometimes, it was so strong.

As Nyx berated him for losing something – Aspen couldn't even remember what it was, although Nyx claimed it was very expensive – he lowered his head, feeling ashamed. The forest was quiet besides Nyx's scolding, the other faeries in their group knowing better than to get involved in his anger, lest they feel it themselves.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he said quickly, his hair falling in his eyes. "Please forgive me."

"Look at me." Grabbing his hair roughly, Nyx pulled his head up to look at him, and Aspen flinched, reluctantly looking at him. "That's not good enough," he hissed. "I need to make sure you never lose anything again."

"I won't do it again, I promise," he said, swallowing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, you can prove it to me, okay?" Nyx said, his voice lowering to a croon, as his eyes flickered to the campfire. "Then I'll forgive you. Just do what I say."

Nodding eagerly, Aspen's expression brightened slightly at the thought of forgiveness.

Nyx smiled slowly, patting his head, like one might pet a cat. "Now, see the fire over there? I want you to put your hand in it. Don't worry, it'll be real quick, I promise."

Aspen turned his head to look at it, horrified. His every instinct screamed at him to not go near it, but he also knew Nyx, and that he didn't have a choice. It was the only way he'd forgive him. Nervously, he started over to the campfire slowly, cautiously, glancing back at Nyx for a moment, who smiled and gestured for him to continue.

Standing in front of the flames, he stared at them, imagining a scene where people were dancing in them. A slow waltz, perhaps. That made it easier, but then he remembered that the flames were hot and dangerous and his mouth felt dry and he was scared.

Closing his eyes, so he could pretend it was all a dream, he reached his hand forward towards the flames, wincing in anticipation of the pain.

But then something caught his hand to stop him, and he opened his eyes, startled to find it was Nyx's hand. He closed it around Aspen's, pulling Aspen towards him, and raising it to his lips.

"That was good, sweetheart," he said, looking amused as he glanced over at the others in the group. "Isn't he just a gem? He does exactly what I say."

Some laughed while others rolled their eyes, but Aspen revelled in Nyx's pleased expression, and the way he ruffled his hair pleasantly.

"You've done well, and you've proven your loyalty to me," Nyx said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Aspen smiled, happy to be loved and adored. Then, Nyx passed Aspen something they'd cooked earlier, that he'd missed out on. "Now go and eat."

Feeling relieved, and happy that he was liked again, Aspen sat down on the log, starting to eat, as he realised just how hungry he'd been, having not been allowed to eat all day.

He knew that if he did the right things, he'd be praised and loved, and those were the things he really wanted. They'd tell him that he was pretty, and he was good, and he was smart.

And those were the words he'd always longed for.

* * *

 **A/N: So sorry if I got things wrong. There was lots of other characters I could have done, so maybe I'll do another chapter sometime. Let me know if there's any characters you want me to do. :)**


	10. Chapter 10 - Champagne and a View

**I had random ideas for some modern day, mundane AU stories for some of the characters. This one ended up being and taking so long though, that I decided to just post them as I write them, rather than all together like I originally planned. So if all goes well, I'll have some more to write for Cas, Rose, and a couple of other characters, maybe. :) (I had to change the rating from T to M for this chapter, just in case… whoops. Hahaha)**

* * *

Slipping into the lavish five-star hotel, Aspen passed some business men dressed in fine suits and ties. He was also dressed expensively, probably looking like he was there on some important business as well. It was only if you stepped closer to him, that you'd smell the seductive scent of the generous amount of cologne he'd put on, and see the ruffled, carefully styled state of his black hair. There was a gleam in his green eyes as well; a gleam of excitement. His job was nothing like those men he'd walked past – they sat at office desks all day, bored out of their minds, to earn their money. He earned his money in an entirely… different way, and he worked much better hours for it.

Walking to the reception desk, he informed them that Samantha Bentley was waiting for his visit. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the desk while they called her room, to check if it was the truth. Whatever she said on the other line placated them, and they gestured to the lift and told him the room number.

He grinned when he realised how high up it would be, inclining his head to them, before starting over to the lift. He'd always loved a nice view.

The typical boring elevator music played as he checked his hair in the mirror of the lift while he waited. Fifty storeys was pretty high up, after all.

When the doors opened, he straightened, adopting his usual flirtatious and confident air. Making his way to the room 505, he knocked – careful to make it not too soft, or too firm – and waited.

A woman – who looked to be in her forties, making her a little under twenty years older than him – opened the door to greet him. She had curly brown hair, a little fuzzy and plain, like her matching brown eyes, but he looked her up and down in a coquettish manner, as if she was the most beautiful woman he'd even seen.

"My, you're even more beautiful than I pictured, from your voice," Aspen remarked, his tone seductive and silky smooth.

She blushed, looking almost embarrassed for a moment, before she opened the door hastily when he shifted his eyes to the door pointedly, and opened it wider. "Come in," she stammered, moving aside for him.

Nyx had warned him she was new to the escort services, so he'd been prepared to put on his best charm. Of course, there had been many so stunned by his grandeur that they'd found it hard to talk when they first laid eyes on him.

He prided himself on catering to anyone – men, women, couples, you name it. He didn't have a preference, and many people fascinated him, at least for a little while. It was rare that someone could catch his attention for a long time though. Eventually everyone became… boring, after a while.

Walking inside as if he owned the place, Aspen sauntered to the table, picking up a plain white envelope there. It was a customary gesture for high class escorts like himself, as his clients were told to pay in cash. Nyx was the one who first introduced Aspen to the thrills of the job, and was also the one who now organised and booked his clients, choosing them carefully, in exchange for a share of the fee. Aspen quickly countered the hundred dollar notes with ease. Nyx had instilled that in him, and he never forgot to. Especially after a mishap when he'd first started the job. Finishing his counting, he gave a nod and tucked it into his pocket. The envelope contained $1500, which meant three hours of his time. _Not bad_.

"I got you a gift, to thank you for coming," Samantha murmured, picking up a fancy looking box from the table. Aspen smiled, looking delighted. He'd been given all sorts of gifts from his clients, from jewellery to gift vouchers, to holidays. Accepting the present, he flipped open the lid, looking down at the expensive watch, from a famous brand. He had no interest in wearing watches, really, and it was something he'd never wear again, but he played the game, turning to her, and holding it out. "It's stunning," he announced. "Will you put it on for me?"

"Of course," she replied quickly, taking it daintily in her fingers. He offered her his wrist, and she wrapped the watch around it, trying to do the clasp up. He leaned his head closer to her, his breath skating across her hair, and she giggled as the watch slipped from her fingers. "Hang on," she said, reaching to pick it up and try again. This time she managed to do it up, and he pressed his lips to her cheek in a kiss, as a thank you.

She blushed a little, walking over to the counter to pick up two glasses of champagne. Offering him one, he took it gratefully, taking an elegant sip, after she did. He then reached out to take her hand, pulling her gently over to the large windows looking out at the view. As his eyes took in the sights and the stars in interest, they both drank the champagne with little restraint, and he soon lost count of the number of glasses they had. They talked and drank and talked and drank, until they were both smiling, and in pleasant spirits.

"It's a lovely view," he remarked, looking down at the tiny looking people crossing the road, amongst the cars. There were also markets and a park in the distance too, a contrast to the busy surroundings. "Almost as lovely as you," he added, in a flirtatious tone.

Turning to him, she reached a hand up to curl a finger around a lock of his black hair, loosening up and starting to get emboldened from the drink. "You're very pretty too. More than me, probably."

He merely laughed, although he couldn't deny it was true. Nyx had already told him her backstory – she was a lonely housewife, seeking the attention her husband never gave her. Everyone always seemed so busy with their work. Aspen had many lonely customers like her, some of whom were regulars, and he delighted in lighting up their lives a little, at least for a night. He thought of himself as a star, there one moment with a brilliant light, before disappearing the next.

He caught her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing it, before returning it to her side. Then he raised his finger to her lips. "Shh," he murmured, "You shouldn't say such things. You're lovely just the way you are."

Moving his finger away, he leaned down, closing the gap between them, and kissing her deeply. Her lips tasted of the champagne, and she eagerly returned the kiss. As she let out a moan in pleasure, he smiled against her lips, satisfied, as he buried his fingers in her hair.

It wasn't long before she was tugging at his jacket, and he was taking it off, and pulling her towards the bedroom, her laughter echoing through the space.

He was good at knowing what made people happy, what they _desired_ and _yearned_ for. Some more innocent people booked his services simply for companionship, or for a partner to bring along to a work party. Others for a dinner date or to be pampered. In the past, someone had even used him as a muse for a painting. But no one could deny his skills in the bedroom, and his meetings often ended up in a similar way.

He was good at playing games and being what people wanted him to be, because then they liked him. They told him he was pretty and perfect and lovely and he soaked up the praises, revelling in them. There was something wrong, he thought, if he did not please someone. Either he'd done something wrong, or he'd played the part wrong, or he'd made a mistake. For what was not to love about him?

He was exactly what they wanted.


	11. Chapter 11 - A Sense of Loyalty

**A/N: As I said, really random (and short) chapters, still modern day, mundane AU, and here's my next one…**

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"Caspian."

His name rung out in the silence of the room, and he kept his head down, studying his hands. They were still covered in blood, and his fingers hurt a little, but he didn't mind. The adrenaline had been so satisfying for a moment, so _freeing_ , until it died off and he was just left with tiredness and indifference.

Now the handcuffs dug into his wrists, a bitter reminder of where he was.

The counsellor frowned, tapping her pen against the desk and shifting in her seat as she watched him. Did he make her nervous?

He hoped so.

" _Caspian_ ," she repeated, sounding exasperated at his lack of a response. "You realise how bad this is, don't you? Fighting with – no, _attacking_ – another kid here? What were you thinking?"

She asked the question, as if he'd suddenly had a thought come to mind. As if it was that simple, when in reality, a million things raced through his mind, until he wasn't really thinking at all, and it was instinctual.

A sigh escaped her lips when he continued to ignore her, and she jotted down some notes, the pen sounding like it was scratching across the paper. He didn't bother to look over and read her notes. He was sure they were just riveting accounts of his terrible behaviour and his lack of respect for authority.

"You realise," she continued, her tone growing harder, "That you'll be sent to solitary confinement, after this?" She clasped her hands together on the desk in front of her. "Normally it would be a set period of time, like your last visit there. But this time, I want something else from you, before you can re-join the rest of your block. I think it will be good for you."

As if any of this was good for him. He'd been sent to a juvenile correctional facility – juvie, as they all called it – and he'd been there for a month already. It seemed stupid, so stupid to lump gang members together into the same block. Didn't they know anything? They were all stuck there until they completed their 'rehabilitation program,' apparently to help curb their bad behaviour, and to help with their future reintegration to society. Either that, or they turned eighteen and could be tried as an adult. Really, that couldn't come quickly enough. The program they'd set up sounded like one of the stupidest ideas he'd ever heard of, and he'd told them so, but it wasn't like they'd listen to someone like him.

The handcuffs rattled as he shifted to lean his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. "I don't really care about your thoughts on what would be good for me," he drawled, slowly, just to infuriate her. "Considering you don't even know me."

He ignored her as she studied him closely. "Is this to do with your parents not visiting again?" she asked, causing his anger to rise. Of course his parents hadn't visited, and they'd never plan to, after he was arrested.

"It's got nothing to do with them," he spat, gritting his teeth. "They don't care about me, and I couldn't care less about them."

"It would have been nice for them to show up though, wouldn't it?" she pressed, leaning forward.

" _No_ ," he snapped. "I hate them, and if I never see them again, it would still be too soon." He took a deep breath, his silver eyes seething. "Listen, like I've tried to tell you before, I don't need your help or you digging around in my head. Got it?"

Finally backing off, she sighed again, leaning back in her chair. He supposed he was a rather hard kid to deal with.

He'd been in a gang for years, and he'd always been loyal. If he was told to steal, hurt, or do other things…he'd do it. He'd do _anything_ for them. That was until one day when a robbery had gone wrong, and the police had been alerted. The others had decided to leave him behind so that they could get away in time. Better to sell him out, than themselves, obviously.

The funny thing was, he'd still never sold out their names or hideouts, even though he'd been asked on numerous occasions. As if he still had some sense of loyalty ingrained in him. Days had gone by, and he'd had some glimmer of hope, that maybe the gang would help him escape. That they'd realised their mistake, or it had all been some grand plan. But as the weeks dragged on, it was obvious that wasn't the case. Yet he still wouldn't break his silence about them.

"Caspian, I would be happy to release you again from solitary confinement, if you apologise to Xanthe," the counsellor stated. "He's having medical treatment at the moment, but I want you to think long and hard about your actions, and then I want you to apologise to him."

He looked over at her slowly, like she was crazy, and laughed. "If that's what you want, then I'm going to be in there for a long, _long_ time."

It had been satisfying when his fist had connected with Xanthe's jaw. More than satisfying. It was like a release of tension and anger from the past month, and it felt nice to be in control of something. Then that made it hard to stop. Technically Xanthe had started it by taunting him; he had always known exactly what to say to get under his skin. Xanthe was a member of a rival gang – although Caspian had suspected he was a bit of a wimp, always running from a fight, or watching as his friends did all the fighting. It turned out he'd been right, and it had become less satisfying when he didn't fight back much, waiting for the guards, and calling out for help instead. It seemed he hadn't realised how close he'd become to pushing him off the edge.

"I hope you reconsider that in your stay there," the counsellor replied, rising and gesturing to some guards waiting at the door. "Please escort Caspian to solitary confinement."

They nodded, both grabbing his arms to pull him up from the chair, and drag him out of the room. Swearing under his breath at them, he held his head high as he was taken out of the hallway, and outside into the yard, as they led him to another building.

Members of other gangs called out insults as they saw him being taken away, a predatory glint in their eyes as they spat on him and called him and his gang names. However, he just laughed, his eyes glinting and hiding his true anger, as he memorised their faces in his mind so that he could get his revenge later.

He could take care of himself now, and he'd make sure they all knew it.


	12. Chapter 12 - A Battle of Pride

**A/N: So here's the fight chapter! I'm not great with writing fighting, but hopefully I managed to do it enough justice. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was nearly time for the fight, and Caspian could feel his anticipation building. He'd always lived for the feel of the adrenaline, and the way it felt to have no restraints. The way it felt to _beat_ someone. Fighting was one thing he was confident in, and he really wanted to win. The Wild Hunt was his new home, and he had to win the battle to win their respect. The other reason of course was how much he hated his opponent, Sol. It would be fun to wipe the obnoxious smirk off his face.

Running a hand along his staff and feeling a calming sense of familiarity, Caspian started towards the clearing they'd decided on. There was already a crowd of faeries there ready to watch, but Caspian ignored the majority of them, instead searching the faces for just one in particular. He'd considered leaving a note for Aspen by the lake, but in the end, he decided Aspen would have already found out from the other faeries about when the fight was.

He was distracted from his search when Sol emerged from behind the trees, and he studied the weapons he'd chosen to use against his staff. It seemed Sol had chosen two swords, as well as whatever else he had hidden under his cloak. They looked to be of a Seelie make, with a decorated hilt and pommel, which in Caspian's mind was a ridiculous idea. It didn't matter how pretty your sword was, as long as it was sharp, and you had the skills and training. Faeries from the Seelie Court really did waste time and effort on such frivolous things. As he studied the blades, he narrowed his eyes as he noticed the duller colour. It must have a higher percentage of iron in it, he decided, purposely for use against faeries.

As they approached each other, another supervisor who he didn't know explained the rules. They could fight until one of them resigned, or couldn't fight anymore. He laughed under his breath as he thought of how different the rules were to the ones at the Unseelie Court. In fact, the Unseelie Court had no rules for these kinds of things.

Sol looked over at him. "I wouldn't look so confident, if I was you," he drawled, with a slow, arrogant smile. "May the best faerie win."

"Shut up," was all Caspian muttered, the words he'd heard Sol had said about him rolling around in his mind and causing his anger to build. However, he'd prefer to save his energy for the fight, rather than put it into unnecessary and pointless arguing.

Unclasping his cloak, he folded it and placed it down carefully on the grass, unlike in the past when he'd usually throw his old cloak to the ground. This one however, was new and a gift, and he wanted to keep it in good condition. Looking back, he saw Sol had done the same, and had similarly taken his off, so that it wouldn't get in the way. Now his bright red wings stood out jarringly against the calm green of the grass, and Caspian looked away from them with a scowl.

Before long, they were in their positions and the battle had begun. He blocked out the cheers and calls from the onlookers, instead focusing purely on his opponent. He focused on Sol's stance, the way he moved, and whether he gave away any signs of a future strike.

Going on the offensive, he moved forward to test a thrust forward with his staff, which Sol promptly blocked with his swords, before darting to the side. It was an odd pairing indeed – former Seelie against former Unseelie. Sol's movements were elegant, like he was in a dance, while Caspian's style was rough and dirty, like the place he'd come from.

They went back and forth, testing either other for a while; a thrust here, a lower cut there. They were both quick on their feet though, and good at blocking, so it wasn't easy to land anything. He wouldn't have expected anything less, with a trained opponent. At least it made it interesting.

"Heard you got your wings cut out by a group of faeries," Sol grinned, watching his reaction. "And that you just laid there in your blood afterwards. Pretty pathetic, right? Couldn't even fight to protect your own wings."

Caspian growled, charging forward quickly to try and cut at his stomach. But Sol merely laughed, ducking away and cutting at Caspian's hand which was holding his staff, with one of his swords. It had only nicked his hand, but it was enough to draw blood, and Caspian hissed at the burn of the iron when it made contact.

"And then you got _kicked out_ of the Unseelie Court? I bet that doesn't happen often. Your family must have thought you were a disgrace. I bet everyone did," Sol laughed, a mean glint in his eyes.

"Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ ," Caspian growled. His anger thrummed through his veins, mixed with the adrenaline, and his expression was wild as he lunged forward again, just wanting to cut him and make him bleed. He managed a deep cut to Sol's arm, with the blade on the end of his staff. However, he left himself open in his anger, and Sol darted to the side to avoid a second strike and dropped one of his swords to the ground to grab Caspian's staff in one hand, lashing out with his remaining sword in his other. Caspian had to move back to avoid it, and his hand was still slick from the blood, enabling Sol to pull his staff away from him. Sol couldn't hold the staff for long though, before he tossed it away, cursing when the anti-theft enchantment on it caused it to burn his hand. Caspian reached for a dagger, but Sol moved forward quickly, faking a strike, while he kicked out at the side of his knee.

Using his advantage, Sol moved to hit his back with the pommel of his sword, as Caspian fell to his knees. Snickering, Sol hit his back again with the pommel, before kicking out with his foot, hard against his back. With a strangled gasp at the sharp pain of his back, Caspian braced himself with his hands against the ground, gritting his teeth. His nails dug into the dirt as he tried to breathe, fighting to stay alert. In the back of his head, he supposed the Seelie Court could be brutal too, when they wanted to; either that or it was his Hunt side. "You forget," Sol whispered, bending down closer to his ear before he kicked out again, "That I know your greatest weakness."

Dropping fully to the ground, Caspian moved to roll to the side, however Sol reached out to grab his hair before he could get far enough away, tilting his head back painfully. "Surrender now, and perhaps I'll go easier on you," Sol hissed, although Caspian ignored him. His hand reached down again as quickly as he could, grabbing his dagger from where it was concealed, and slashing it across Sol's leg. Grunting, Sol let go of Caspian's hair, and he rolled away successfully this time, wincing as his back throbbed.

Managing to stand up, Caspian wiped his bloody hand against his shirt, before moving to pick up his staff again. He'd dealt with pain before and he could do it again, for just a bit longer. Taking a step back, he prepared his stance, and tried to refocus, not wanting to let Sol get to him. He had to win.

This time he waited for Sol to come to him. Sol, taking the advantage, charged in. Caspian, instead of holding his ground, took one step back, leading Sol to move forward again to press his advantage. But Caspian had anticipated the strike, and he stepped back in towards Sol, slashing the blade of the staff across Sol's shin.

Sol lowered a hand to his bleeding shin on instinct, hissing, and Caspian rotated his staff, and lifted the blunt end up to catch Sol under the chin. Sol's head flew back, and he landed on his back on the ground. Quickly Caspian charged forward, stomping on Sol's sword hand, and pinning it to the ground, to stop him from using it.

Before Sol could move, Caspian pressed the blade of his staff to the side of his neck, just enough to draw a little blood. He could have forced him to surrender there, but he paused. His eyes travelled to Sol's wings where they rested against the ground, and his thoughts turned dark and disturbing, his silver eye turning a murky grey.

Moving the blade across Sol's skin to his wings, he rested the blade against them. They looked like blood against the ground, yet so pure and perfect. Sol's eyes were wide, and he didn't dare move, in case Caspian pierced them or severed a tendon. He was tempted to drive his blade straight through them, wanting to hear him scream, for him to feel his pain. He drew a cut along the membrane, staring and wanting to go deeper. He wanted Sol to understand what it felt like, and he nearly pressed down harder, before someone called his name, drawing him from his thoughts and causing him to pause. Kellan rested a hand against his back, and he flinched, moving the blade back to Sol's neck.

"That's enough. You've won," Kellan said carefully, as if he were talking to a startled animal.

Caspian's hand trembled for a moment, trying to fight his twisted thoughts, before he finally drew the staff back, away from Sol, and moved his foot back to the grass, breathing hard.

Sol rolled away immediately, before jumping up, glancing back at his wing with a worried frown, and raising a hand to the blood on his neck. Looking over at Caspian, he swore, calling him crazy and spitting on the ground, before walking over to pick up his other sword.

Two of the medic faeries ran over with supplies, one going to attend to Sol and starting on bandaging the cut on his arm, while the other came over towards Caspian. Scowling at him, Caspian shook his head, before collecting his cloak, and wiping the blood off the blade of his staff onto the grass. Then, he ignored a couple of faeries trying to talk to him, pushing past them, so he could leave.

While medic faeries may be able to help physical injuries heal quicker, they certainly couldn't help with messed up minds.


	13. Chapter 13 - Roses are Red

**A/N: So this chapter was meant for Valentine's Day, but sadly it's late, which is not surprising considering I started it that night for me. But I got there in the end, so I hope you enjoy it. :)**

* * *

 _Rose looked over at him expectantly with a sweet grin. "Do you know what day Tuesday is?"_

 _Frowning slightly, Blake considered. "What do you mean? I don't keep up with the mundane calendar, but-"_

" _It's Valentine's day, silly," Rose sang excitedly, clasping her hands in front of her. "Which means we need to celebrate."_

" _Valentine's day?" he repeated, giving her a confused look. "What's that?"_

" _Oh, only the most romantic day on earth," Rose replied, dreamily. "I can't believe you don't know- well, actually I can, since you're from the Unseelie Court and all, but still. Everyone knows about it. It's that one day of the year when people, couples in particular, express their love for each other by giving flowers or chocolates, or sending greeting cards. It's all about showing the ones you love how you feel, and making it special."_

" _That seems like a lot for one day," he remarked, trying to imagine it. "What do you do, exactly?"_

" _I'll write you out a list of things to do to prepare," Rose chirped. "We have to make it special, since it's our first Valentine's together as a couple. It's predicted to be a full moon, isn't that romantic?"_

 _He didn't see how the night werewolves were out prowling was romantic, but he kept his mouth shut, watching her excitement in amusement._

 _Spinning around so that her dress fanned out around her, Rose then walked over to him, her eyes alight. "But the most important thing is that I get to see you, okay?" she said, reaching out to curl a hand around his arm. "Promise me you'll be there?"_

Blake had never realised that mundanes had such serious traditions. Such regimented traditions were usually reserved for the fae, and it was a surprise for him to learn that mundanes might have something similar.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out the small piece of paper smoothing it out as he read it again. Rose's neat, cursive handwriting filled the page with steps for the preparation of Valentine's Day.

The first step had been to book a restaurant for dinner. They'd decided a mundane one would be best, since Rose preferred to avoid the Towns. Apparently, it was important to book seats, as it was a busy night of the year, she'd told him.

Stopping outside the restaurant, he felt a little out of place, checking to make sure his glamour was still working and hiding his wings. Then he pushed inside, and was quickly greeted by a waiter. He cleared his throat, wondering how to word it. "I'd like to book a table," he started, avoiding eye contact in his embarrassment, "For tomorrow night."

The waiter tapped his pen against a clipboard, glancing at a list. "Oh, Valentine's night. That's pretty booked up, but we still have a couple of tables left." He shifted his gaze to Blake, studying him. "Where would you prefer to sit? In a booth near the back, or near the window where there's a view of the water?"

Blake froze, trying to decide what to choose. Rose had been very specific about everything she wanted, except for where they should sit. If he was picking for himself, he'd just go for the quiet and more private booth seat at the back, but he wanted her to be happy, and would she prefer the view to the quiet?

Feeling at a loss, he went with the view, feeling like it might be something she'd like. She always did like pretty things, and being the centre of attention. Hoping it was the right choice, he gave his name for the booking, before walking outside again with a sigh in relief. He felt a lot of pressure to make the whole Valentine's Day thing perfect. Rose had been so excited about it, and he couldn't bear to let her down.

The second step on the list had been for him to find a suit to wear. Apparently, it was going to be a formal evening. It was strange walking into a shop and getting measured for size. He was used to wearing practical clothes, more suited to comfort than style. He'd have nowhere else to wear it really, but he guessed it would be easy to sell again afterwards. Then again, he reconsidered, he'd need to cut slits in the back for his wings, so that idea probably wouldn't work so well.

Luckily, the shopkeeper helped to recommend what would look best – a dark grey suit that would apparently help to 'complement his eyes' – and he bought it quickly, happy to get out of the place.

Last on the list – to be done on the day - was unsurprisingly, buying flowers. They did happen to be one of Rose's favourite things. He stopped in at a florist on the way, looking around at the rows upon rows of flowers. She'd specified red roses, and it was easy for him to pick them out. Especially since all the mundanes were crowding around them. He studied the options, wanting to pick some nice ones.

Finding a bunch of nice looking roses wrapped in a pretty pink tissue paper, he picked it up, walking over to pay for it. It all seemed a bit over the top. Mundanes needed a day to show their feelings? It was all strange and foreign to him, but it felt important that he make it special.

His lips curved up in a slight smile.

Rose's excitement would definitely be enough of a reward.

* * *

Going to the shops that day hadn't been the best idea.

Every store Steff went into was decorated with love hearts and cupids and pink streamers, and it was a little overwhelming. Chocolates and flowers were placed strategically at the entrances, and she looked away from a couple picking flowers together.

Sighing, she left the shop quickly, unable to help but feel disheartened. Cole would think Valentine's day was a stupid mundane tradition. He'd probably call it cheesy and overly sentimental. And he'd say she was soft and that she'd read too many romance novels and fairy tales, just for thinking about it.

The thing was, Valentine's Day wasn't all about gifts and cliché things like that. Just spending time with someone you cared about was a lovely thought in itself. And why couldn't there be a day to celebrate love?

Really, it was best not to dwell on things too long, and she bit her lip, focusing on staring ahead. Her gaze caught on a quaint book shop at the corner of the street. She didn't even need to think about it, her feet instinctively moved her there. Staring in through the window, it was hard not to notice the large section set up with romance novels. Seeing a couple of her favourites, she pondered walking in and buying one. She knew what her parents would say about her wasting money on books, but they couldn't control her life anymore, and she started inside.

Since she'd been in such a rush to leave London, she wasn't able to bring all her favourite books from the Institute library with her, nor would she have been able to fit them all in her bag. One she'd missed in particular was Pride and Prejudice, and she was quick to pick it off the shelf, running her hand against the cover reverently. Valentine's Day was a fitting time to read it again, and she found herself looking forward to it. Flipping through the pages, she inhaled the new book smell, giving a faint smile, before walking over to the cash registers to pay.

Back on the streets with a book in hand this time, she felt a little better, with a plan for the evening. Her calm was destroyed, however, when she looked up, seeing a flash of familiar pale blonde hair and dark brown eyes walk off in the distance. Taking a startled breath, she hurried after him, her heart hammering in her chest in nervousness.

"Cole-" she started, catching his arm, before freezing, her expression paling. "Oh, sorry," she said, turning away and inwardly berating herself. Of course it wouldn't be him. He didn't even look like that anymore, with the enchanted glove. It was more like seeing a ghost from the past.

Swallowing, she continued back towards the Institute, trying to silence her thoughts. They weren't helpful, and she didn't need them today of all days.

As she turned the corner, a Latin phrase rolled around in the back of her mind, from her days studying the language.

 _Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur._

 _We choose to love, we do not choose to cease loving._

* * *

"I hope you're not going easy on me," Caspian frowned, keeping his stance low and careful.

His forehead glistened with sweat, and his muscles were tense and sore, but he loved it, the feel of a fight, even if it was only training. The adrenaline was addictive, and he doubted he'd ever be the first to tire in a fight. Looking over at Aspen, he blocked his attempt at a strike, keeping him at a distance with his staff. He couldn't help it, the way his lips curved up into a sudden hint of a smile, and he found it impossible to stay frowning for long, his concentration focused elsewhere.

"I'm not. But you're very distracting," Aspen grinned, adjusting his grip on his two swords, before circling him again.

Caspian merely rolled his eyes, not letting himself get distracted by Aspen's comments. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Aspen to practice with him, although he'd expected that after past conversations. It was always good to have someone well trained to fight with though, to keep his skills sharp.

They'd been fighting like that for a while, their technique getting messier, and their grips slacker over time, but they kept going. It was interesting, studying Aspen when he fought. The way he moved, and his techniques with his swords. It became hard to take his eyes off him.

"Come on, Cas, this could take all night," Aspen said, as he suddenly launched forward. He tossed his swords to the ground, ducking under his staff to try and pull him to the ground as well. Caspian discarded his staff to the side, in favour of tussling with him on the ground. As Aspen tugged him down, they hit the ground. The grass only helped to soften their fall a little bit, and Caspian's breath was knocked out of him, not that he cared much.

He half laughed and half wheezed, as they tumbled along the ground, Aspen being careful of his wings. As they finally came to a stop, Caspian managed to gain the upper hand, pinning Aspen down to the ground triumphantly.

"I win," he stated, a glint in his silver eye as he stared down at him, both of them breathing hard.

"Like I said, you were dist-" Aspen started to say, but having a sudden, crazy urge, Caspian leaned down to cut him off, suddenly pressing his lips against Aspen's.

There was a hunger and a wildness to his kiss, and Aspen responded in kind, his hands snaking up to wrap around his middle, drawing him closer.

One of his hands tangled in Aspen's hair, while he used the other to brace against the ground, and he closed his eyes, a moan at the back of his throat. He was sure he must smell of sweat and grass, but it didn't matter in that moment, his thoughts a confusing mess. It was hot, much hotter than it should be, and his cheeks felt flushed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the howls of some werewolves in the distance, and the fact that it was getting darker, the clearing only lit by the full moon. He'd never been afraid of the dark, though. In fact, he welcomed it with open arms.

"Now, that was unexpected," Aspen murmured against his lips. Aspen's fingers moved to brush his side where a bit of skin was exposed from under his shirt, and everything was still so surprising and new. Laughter threatened to bubble forth from his lips, and he felt like he was drunk on something, but what exactly, he wasn't sure.

"Aspen-" he breathed, opening his eyes, and pulling back a little to study him. The silvery gold flecks around his eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight.

"What?" Aspen asked intently, and it seemed as if he was holding his breath. "What is it?"

With a wild laugh, he rested his forehead against Aspen's for a moment. "Nothing," he said after a pause, finally rolling off him, hoping Aspen's wings weren't too squished. Moving carefully onto his back, he looked up at the stars.

"You know I hate it when you don't finish sentences," Aspen replied, sounding disappointed, as he adjusted so his wings were more comfortable. Then he followed his gaze up to the stars.

"I don't even know what I was going to say," he responded slowly with a shrug. "I just felt…" He paused, as if struggling to come up with a suitable word for it. "…Content," he decided upon, finally.

Aspen smiled slightly, glancing over at him in surprise. "Content? That's good, I'm glad to hear that. I didn't think it was a word you'd ever use."

"It just sounds weird," he laughed, resting his head back against his hands. "But sometimes I say stupid things."

"Feel free to say all the stupid things you want. I'll always listen," Aspen replied, sounding amused. "We both have that problem." Giggling as he watched him, Aspen reached a hand over to brush some grass out of his blonde hair. He then ran his hand along Caspian's arm, before reaching his hand, and entwining their fingers, in a gesture Caspian was well accustomed to now.

They fell into a comfortable silence as he pondered the stars and the full moon. There were many things he wished he could say, and many things he was glad he didn't say, and it was all so confusing.

But he felt… _content_. There it was again, that strange, elusive word. He'd never thought about it much in the past, and now it kept appearing in his head randomly. It wasn't something that fit people like _him_. It wasn't something they usually felt, much less deserved to feel.

Laughing under his breath at himself and his strange thoughts, he settled back and relaxed, the familiar calming peppermint scent on the breeze.


	14. Chapter 14 - Past Memories

**A/N: As promised, here's a chapter! Much too early, but hopefully I can get another one out in May. :) These are all past events, with the exception of Steff's, which is a little more recent than the others.**

* * *

 **~~Steff~~**

It was hard sometimes, to escape the flashes of memories of faeries and night and blood and pain that came to her when her eyes were closed.

Her wrists ached, and she couldn't see, and it was dark; as dark as the closet back in her old Institute. She could hear the faeries' sneers, and feel the dagger pressed against her throat.

And her heart felt like it might explode because she was so worried for her friends, Rose and Connor, and if something happened to them, she didn't know what she'd do.

She'd vowed after her past to always have control of her actions and her choices and her body, and it was hard losing that control that she'd clawed so hard and for so long to get in the first place. To have it ripped from her again was like a cruel joke. But this time, it wasn't just herself who was stuck, and that thought made it more horrible than ever.

Sometimes though, it was nice to pretend it had all just been a dream. She'd wake up and brush it off, while she ran her brush through her hair. Like a book that she'd read for a little while, before finishing it and closing the cover.

It was hard though, to forget, when a glance in the mirror showed a constant reminder. She'd raise a hand and run it against the slight scar on her cheek, carefully. It was there and it was real.

She supposed a lesson once learned, was one you could never truly forget.

 **~~ Connor and Cadyn ~~**

"Where are we going to move next?" Cadyn asked, standing up and throwing a second throwing knife at the thick door of their dorm, figuring it was good practice. It wasn't the first time they'd used it for target practice, as evidenced by the marks remaining from previous times. "Once we get out of here, I mean."

Connor watched from where he sat on the bed, contemplating his question. They hated it at the Academy, so he wasn't worried about them being told off. In fact, if they got sent away, they wouldn't mind it at all.

"We could go to any Institute," Connor replied, with a slight smile. "Like the one in Beijing or Dublin, or Paris or Tokyo or London or Rio de Janeiro or-"

He was cut off when Cadyn interrupted. "I get it, I get it. There's lots of options."

"Or there's the one in Melbourne, Australia," Connor continued, "I've heard everything there is out to kill you. Sounds like fun," he joked.

"Anywhere is fine with me besides Russia," Cadyn said, wrinkling his nose, "Or wherever our parents are planning on going." Running out of knives, he walked over to the door to pull them out again and retrieve them.

"We should travel a bit, all around the place, like usual. But sometime, we should go to New York. Now _that_ would be something different," Connor suggested, out of the blue.

"In _America_?" Cadyn emphasised, giving him a funny look, "Now that's random."

"I heard Mason mention something about it," Connor shrugged, getting up and walking over to take the knives off Cadyn, wanting to have a turn. "I think the Clave have given him some job there when he finishes."

"We don't even like him though," Cadyn pointed out with a raised eyebrow, handing the knives over, and leaning against the wall.

"Well, it would be funny, don't you think?" Connor started, "We could get up to all kinds of-…"

Cadyn finished his sentence with a grin, knowing exactly what he meant, " _Mischief_." He nodded, thoughtfully. "Annoy him and embarrass him and all. Yes, I like the sound of that."

"Well, now that we know where we're going," Connor continued, throwing the knife and frowning as it hit the door a little lower than he wanted. Adjusting his stance, he aimed again, "We just have to graduate from this stupid place. At least it's-…"

"Not too much longer now," Cadyn agreed, with a nod of his head. "How many pranks do you think we can get away with, before we leave?" he pondered aloud, his smile widening.

Connor's smile matched his brother's, and the second knife hit the wall in the perfect position.

"A lot," they agreed, simultaneously.

 **~~ Caspian ~~**

Today, Caspian was given a mace to fight with. Yesterday, it was a pair of chakram. The day before, a spear.

He needed to master using everything, before he could perfect just one, his father always told him. Every day it was something new, rotating through the options. He picked them up quickly – many weapons were used in a similar way, he'd learnt, and he was able to apply his skills and knowledge to different ones, once he'd gotten the hang of it. His father was often his opponent, unless he picked someone else for Caspian to train against, which he did on occasion.

Finishing up a training session, Caspian wiped his hair away from where it was stuck to his forehead, still out of breath as he sat down on a rock to rest. His father came over to sit down on a rock nearby. "You're progressing well," his father stated, a hint of pride in his voice. "I think it's time to pick your main weapon. Have you thought about it yet?"

 _Had he thought about it yet?_ He nearly laughed at the question. It was all he'd been thinking about for years. "I've decided," he replied, sitting a little straighter, the slight breeze brushing past his wings. "I know what I want. I'm ready."

"And?" his father asked, raising an eyebrow. "What have you chosen?"

"I want a staff with a blade on the end, of my own design," he answered, thinking of the naginata he'd tried one time. "I like the longer reach, and the art to mastering it."

"Interesting choice," his father nodded, looking thoughtful. "We can work on making that."

It was hard to hide his excitement as he imagined it, and he tossed the mace he'd been using down to the ground beside him. "When can we-" he started, before being cut off when his father stood, watching a horse and rider approach from across the field.

Caspian stood as well, recognising his mother and her dark bay horse easily. She'd been gone for what seemed like ages – one of her longest trips away – on her expedition of mapping out new land and territories. It was a never-ending job in the Land Under the Hill, as it was so vast that no one had ever found the end of it. It was also ever-changing, which made mapping it out so much more difficult. It was hard for him to imagine leaving the Unseelie Court – he'd never left the boundaries yet.

"Mother," he said, inclining his head in greeting, but she was distracted, looking over at his father instead.

"We should talk," she said, beckoning his father away, and Caspian was annoyed that he wasn't allowed to hear whatever it was that they were saying. Kicking a rock away with his foot, he waited impatiently for them to return.

Finally, they came back, and he stood up, so they weren't looking down on him so much. "What is it?" he asked, glancing between them.

His mother was the first to talk, her expression serious. "You know what we expect of you, Caspian. And I know you'll fulfil our wishes."

He shifted and folded his arms, his mood souring as he gathered what they were getting at. "Yes, I know what's expected."

"As long as you continue the bloodline with a suitable pure faerie girl of our choosing, you can do what you want after that. I know you're still young, but this is important. You know it took us a while," she reminded him. "You'll be passing your tests soon, and then you'll be considered an adult in the eyes of the Court. We need to start thinking about this now."

He didn't respond, although it was obvious that he'd heard, and he ran a hand through his hair, suddenly restless.

His mother exchanged a look with his father. "I had a discussion with the Floret family today on my way back, and their daughter, Tiana, could be a good candidate. She has a good, pure bloodline, and it's related to ours – her bloodline can be traced back to the archangel Camael as well, and another Greater demon. I'm not saying we've decided – there's many other options, but I'm just keeping you informed. If we decided to make arrangements with them, they would agree to it, they've told us."

Ignoring the sour taste in his mouth, he bit down on his tongue to keep from arguing. He didn't want to 'continue the bloodline,' or whatever they decided to call it. He wasn't interested in children. But it had always been expected of him, and he'd always known that, ever since he was old enough to understand. "I haven't forgotten," he said finally, turning away as he made a face. "And I haven't let the family down yet," he added, before picking up the mace and dangling it from his hand as he started away, towards the trees.

He'd done everything else they wanted.

Surely, he didn't have to dwell on such responsibilities yet.

 **~~ Aspen ~~**

Pulling the faerie he'd just met that night closer to him, Aspen giggled, shifting on the bed, to make it more comfortable for his wings.

His older companion for the night was only a half-fae, but he was still good looking, and he'd called Aspen all kinds of nice things at the bar where they'd first talked. He'd even convinced Aspen to have just a little bit to drink, even though he knew he shouldn't. Nyx had always said he acted stupid when he had too much.

Then it hadn't taken much for the half-fae to convince him to come back to his place, and Aspen had followed obediently. It was a nice house – for one on the edge of the Towns - and he'd taken a moment to marvel at it, still used to the forest where he'd stayed with Nyx and the others not that long ago. He liked the beds too, they were much softer than the ground, and also good for… other things.

Aspen dragged his hand down the faerie's bare chest, his mouth moving to meet the stranger's.

"Mmm, you're so pretty," the fae murmured against his lips, and Aspen smiled proudly, leaning in closer for the validation, like a cat.

"Really? You think so?" Aspen beamed, letting him run his hand through his black hair, and tug on the ends.

"Of course, of course," the faerie agreed, pulling back slightly so he could run his fingers down his face. "So young and pretty. You could be a model."

"I like the sound of that. A model," Aspen pondered aloud, before flinching at the feeling of something unexpectedly touching his wing.

"And your wings are exquisite," the faerie continued, his nails sliding down them.

It wasn't a pleasant sensation, but Aspen didn't complain, biting his tongue, and hoping the stranger would continue with his praise. The nerves on his wings tingled, and he shifted slightly, before stilling when the faerie caught his wrist.

"You should-…" The faerie started, before freezing at the sound of keys at a door. He swore, and Aspen watched him quizzically, wondering what was wrong.

The faerie swore again, getting up hurriedly, and throwing his shirt back on over his head. "She's… She's home early," he said quickly, bending down to pick up Aspen's shirt and throw it over to him.

"She?" Aspen repeated, swallowing as he put his shirt back on as well, trying to get his wings through the slits.

"I can't let her see you. You gotta-…" Looking stressed, the faerie pulled Aspen up from the bed, glancing around the room. "Ahh… you can't go through the door yet or she'll see you."

Aspen's eyes went to the closet, and following his gaze, the faerie nodded, pushing him towards it. "Yeah, go hide in there. And don't make a sound. Got it?"

Aspen nodded silently, following his instructions as he opened the closet door and slipped inside. The door was promptly closed behind him, and Aspen sat down, leaning against the wall behind the clothes, and drawing his knees to his chest. It was dark in the closet, and he could only see light through the slits in the door.

"Honey, I'm back early," a female voice called from the other side of the house. "Let's have dinner."

"Okay, be right there!" His companion replied, and Aspen heard the sound of footsteps as he left.

Sighing, Aspen felt cramped in the small space, his wings pressed against the wall. It was claustrophobic for one so used to sleeping outside, and he took a few breaths to calm himself. His companion had a _wife_? In his naivety, he hadn't even thought to ask.

Raising a finger to his lips, he bit his nail out of habit, feeling hungry at the smell of food that wafted in. He hoped he wouldn't have to stay there in the small space all night. Surely there would be an opportunity to sneak out, or something.

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps in the room again, although this time there were two sets. He could just see their outline through the slits and the clothes dangling in front of him – the girl had long blonde hair – and he wondered if that was more his companion's 'type,' or whether he was.

"You should have come with me. It was fun," she said, walking closer towards the closet.

"I told you, I had some work to get done," was the response, and Aspen sucked in a breath, shuffling back as far as he could as the door opened.

He held his breath, wondering whether he'd be spotted, but she didn't look down, hanging her coat up on a hanger, before closing the door again.

Relieved, he bit his nail again, listening to their boring small talk. Honestly, if this was how they talked all the time, he could see why his companion had sought out some other company.

The sound of a shower started, and Aspen jumped when the door opened again, suddenly. The faerie moved to grab his arm and pull him out, holding a finger to his lips. Following quietly through the maze of corridors, Aspen sighed in relief when they were finally outside in the crisp, night air.

Mustering up a flirtatious smile, Aspen looked over at him. "Do you want to continue some-…"

The faerie interrupted, shaking his head. "Don't come back again. I can't have you at the house. Do you understand?"

Disappointed at his hard, unrelenting tone, Aspen smoothed his rumpled hair with his fingers, his smile fading. "Okay then… Goodbye, I guess."

The faerie merely nodded in response, before shutting the door, and Aspen's eyes quickly adjusted to the dimmer lighting of the moon.

His night hadn't gone as planned, and he considered going back to another bar again to find someone else. It had been silent, much too silent and lonely in the closet on his own, and he wouldn't have minded some more company.

Starting away down the street, he glanced around at the faces he passed. He should have asked whether he was married. It was a stupid mistake.

Next time he wouldn't make the same one.


	15. Chapter 15 - A Tribute to the Twins

Jealousy was a strange, worrying thing, but Cadyn had experienced it before.

If his twin went off to talk to someone else for a little too long. If someone looked at Connor in a way Cadyn didn't like. If Connor talked too long about a girl. The list went on, even though he tried to stifle it. He didn't want to be like a strangler fig, encasing his brother, but at the same time, he couldn't bear to let go, for fear of losing him to someone else.

When Savannah had kissed Connor, even if it was just to tease, Cadyn had folded his fingers into fists, a feeling of anger and protectiveness building. He'd never seen Connor so flustered and unsure.

"Don't touch him," he'd said defensively, looking distraught, "He doesn't enjoy your company very much. He's just too nice to say it."

He'd been unsettled and upset for the rest of the day, but Connor and he had easily slipped back into their normal routine, and it was rarely brought up again.

He grasped at his brother, worried that one day he'd leave and get married. For who did he have if Connor was gone? Who would he share jokes with and who would read his mind and finish his sentences? Who would he both fight beside and read with late at night?

His mind came up blank, and he panicked, afraid to lose the one constant he'd always been able to rely upon.

* * *

Russian became like their secret language in a primarily English speaking country. They slipped into it whenever they felt like it, enjoying confusing people.

"Cadyn," one of their least favourite teachers at the Academy said, looking at both of them, not knowing who was who, "Hand out some steles to the other students."

Cadyn glanced sidelong at Connor, snickering, before reaching into the cabinet again to pull out some more. "Вы не можете сделать это сами?"

 _You can't do it yourself?_

ooOoo

As a cocky student demonstrated a fighting sequence, he smirked confidently when he finished, glancing over at the rest of the class, as if daring them to do it as well.

Connor rolled his eyes, sharing a secret grin with Cadyn.

"Он выглядит как идиот" they both agreed.

 _He looks like an idiot._

ooOoo

A girl with long golden hair dropped her dagger on the ground and as it slid over near them, Connor stopped it with his boot, leaning down to pick it up. Holding it in his hand, he glanced over at her, taking a moment to study her.

"Она симпатичная, вам не кажется?" he asked his brother.

 _She's pretty, don't you think?_

Cadyn made a sound of disagreement, plucking the dagger from his hand and walking over to pass it to her quickly, ignoring her grateful smile.

Returning to Connor, he laughed under his breath, holding a hand to his chest and muttering in a cocky tone, _"Не такая красивая, как я."_

 _Not as beautiful as I am._

Connor rolled his eyes, pushing past him as they returned to their positions to start the practice drill over again.

* * *

 _The battle with the Hunt faeries had been filled with pain and blood and the sound of horses' hooves hitting the ground, and it had gone quickly, the events hazy and distorted._

 _"I...um..." Connor moved out of the way when someone bumped into him and swallowed. "I...gotta go back," he said, turning around to head back to the forest. He hit into someone and he apologized in a mutter, his hand going to his sword._

 _He'd pushed Steff away as well, his thoughts on only one thing._

Starting through the forest, Connor swept branches away with his hands, ignoring the scratches and cuts on his arms. His breaths made a strangled sound, as he fought to get enough air in, scared of what he might find.

As he got deeper into the forest, bodies littered the ground, and he glanced at all the faces, both fae and Shadowhunter, discounting the irrelevant ones, and they all started to blur together. None of the others mattered to him. It was eerily silent, now that the battle was over, as if the forest itself was recovering, but he barely noticed.

It took what seemed like forever, until he froze, seeing a hint of familiar reddish brown hair, stained a bright red from the blood. It couldn't be his brother… it just couldn't, because there was so much blood-… and, and he _had_ to be just sleeping, right?

Gasping, he ran over, kneeling and pressing a hand to his mouth, to stifle a horrified choking sound.

His brother's eyes were open, but unseeing, with nail marks raked down his cheek. And worst of all, the dagger that had been pushed in was still there at his temple. The side of his face and hair was so red, and Connor's vision grew blurry, as he shook his brother's shoulder. "Cadyn," he muttered, before repeating his name louder this time. "You… You have to wake up and-…" A sob escaped his mouth, before he could stop it, and he felt nauseous, holding a hand to his mouth and trying to keep from being sick. "Don't-… Don't leave me," he begged, his voice breaking, just like he could feel something inside of him doing the same.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring, before he finally moved to lay down beside him, as close as he could get. Slowly, rain started to fall through the leaves of the trees, and it mixed with the tears falling down his cheek. The rain turned his brother's blood a lighter pink, diluting it.

He suddenly felt numb, and all he could think was, would his blood be the same colour? Everything else about them had always been the same, so he doubted that blood would be an exception. Laying his head back on the ground, he clutched his brother's gear jacket in his hand, as if afraid to let go.

Because if he let go, then his brother really would be dead.

* * *

Cadyn's room was messy when Connor walked in there, what could have been days later, although he wasn't quite sure. Time didn't seem so important anymore.

There were swords and daggers scattered around on the floor, and a spare gear jacket had been flung there as well. Bending down to pick them up slowly, he then worked on placing everything back perfectly, as if Cadyn was going to come back at any moment.

"I'm always having to tidy up your messes," he joked instinctively as he picked up a dagger. It was one of their usual jokes, and he reached for his brother's arm, about to say something else, before the reality that he wasn't there, crashed down on him again.

There were moments, blissful moments, where he forgot, for just a moment. Those were the moments where his brother was still alive and he could talk to him, and everything was fine. Since he clung to those moments, it was hard to draw himself out of them, the realisation even harder.

In fact, he wasn't sure if he _ever_ wanted to draw himself out of them.

* * *

Connor had always hated white, the mourning colour. Shadowhunters were meant to be almost invincible in his eyes, and white had never had a place in his life.

That day, however, he was suffocated in white.

Distant relatives had made their way to the Institute in Russia that he and his brother had grown up in, where they had elected the funeral to be in the backyard. He hadn't thought he would be able to go, but his parents had dragged him there, not listening to any excuses. They thought it would be 'good for him to say goodbye.' As if such a thing were possible. As if he could just say goodbye to a part of himself.

There was a silent brother present, beside where his brother lay. He was laid to rest with his arms crossed over his chest, a seraph blade clutched in his right hand, resting over his heart. If Connor didn't look at the wound on his head, and the remainder of the blood they hadn't quite scrubbed off, he would have said his brother looked almost peaceful.

When the silent brother directed them, the Shadowhunters muttered the parting words, "Cadyn, ave atque vale." However, Connor just couldn't bring himself to. As if the words somehow made it all real. He merely looked away when they said it, so no one would notice.

One by one, Shadowhunters went over to stand beside his brother, so that words of mourning could be spoken, and to pay their last respects. Most of the 'family' gathered there, had hardly ever even talked to Cadyn. They were living in Institutes from all around the world, and they came here as if this meant something to them, but it _didn't_. They hadn't meant anything at all to his brother. Connor had numbly shrugged off their condolences and fake sympathy, not being able to say anything polite in reply.

When he parents urged him forth, Connor lowered his eyes to his brother, trying to find the words he wanted to say. But everything seemed inadequate, and he opened his mouth, and nothing came out. All he could think about was Cadyn's laugh, and the jokes they shared, and what he'd probably say about the so-called family members showing up to see him off.

How could he express in mere words, how he felt? The despair when he realised he wasn't there? The fear of living without him? So, stupidly, he hadn't uttered a word, swallowing and looking away. He couldn't bear to, and he couldn't bear to say goodbye.

Suddenly, as he took a step away it felt like his collar was choking him, and he felt like he was burning up. He numbly headed back towards the Institute, before his parents could stop him.

And as he walked away, he could smell the hint of smoke in the air, and he could just faintly hear them, as they concluded with, " _We are dust and shadows_."

* * *

The words he should have said earlier, finally came to him, too late.

"Как мне жить без моей второй половины?" Connor whispered to the wind, his eyes still raw and pained.

" _How can I live without my other half?"_

* * *

 _Two indistinguishable boys painted in identical Runes,_

 _Standing side by side._

 _Dark reddish brown hair, with matching fiendish grins,_

 _A sly gleam in their eyes._

 _One looks into the distance thoughtfully,_

 _The other frowning slightly,_

 _And their arms have been linked since birth._

 _But nature gives and nature takes,_

 _Their time together always destined to come to an abrupt end._

 _The question remains; what do you do when your other half is gone?_

 _When one leaves, their reflection still remains in the mirror,_

 _Oh, what a wicked fate!_


	16. Chapter 16 - Broken

_Under the knife I surrendered_ _  
_ _The innocence yours to consume_ _  
_ _You cut it away_ _  
_ _And you filled me up with hate_ _  
_ _Into the silence you sent me_ _  
_ _Into the fire consumed_ _  
_ _You thought I'd forget_ _  
_ _But it's always in my head_

* * *

Jerking awake from a vivid dream, Caspian took a while to try and pick his surroundings when he opened his eyes. Getting up slowly, aware of the growing bruises on his side, he glanced down the alleyway, his vision a little blurry from a lack of proper sleep. He still didn't know his way around the Towns fully yet, but he knew he was somewhere there. The previous days came back in flashes, and he remembered roaming around for days without sleep, looking for trouble. Any kind was fine, as long as he didn't have to think. He'd eventually collapsed in a shady alleyway from exhaustion and fallen into an unsettled sleep, deciding he didn't mind if someone happened upon him and knifed him in the alleyway. It wasn't like he had anything at all to lose. Surprisingly, it seemed nothing had happened.

He was unamused at fate's idea of a joke.

Walking towards another, busier street, he slipped into a tavern, and ordered a drink. It had taken a few days in the Towns to get used to the idea of mundane money, and when he'd found some money on the ground, he'd used it. It didn't take him long to steal some when he won a fight, to keep him going.

There was a faerie sitting nearby, and he stared at the faerie's translucent purple wings, his eyes dark and troubled. Forcing himself to look away, he took a sip of his drink, finding faerie drinks were the closest ones he could find to the food of the Court.

"Not a pure faerie?" the faerie nearby guessed, studying him.

Caspian gritted his teeth, looking back at him. "Of course I am," he growled.

"Doesn't look like it," was the smug reply, the faerie looking pointedly for his wings. "You can't be as much as me, anyway."

It didn't take much for his anger to build, and his eyes flashed in anger, at the insult. "Really, want to test that?" he retorted, looking for any excuse for a fight.

The faerie merely rolled his eyes, getting up, with a steadying hand on his short sword, and starting outside. "That would be a waste of my time. I don't dally with muddied blood."

Caspian's breaths came quicker in his fury, and he left his half empty glass on the table as he followed the faerie outside, at a distance. It wasn't hard to keep an eye on the flash of purple as he turned the corner into another alleyway, and Caspian picked up his pace, hurtling into the faerie, his sword clattering to the ground when he tried to draw it. _Amateur_. Wishing he had his staff, Caspian traded blows with the faerie, hissing. Nails raked his neck, and he pushed them away, rolling over so he was on top, pinning the faerie down. It had been too easy, much too easy, showing how superior his Unseelie training was.

Reaching out with one hand, he managed to get a hold of the hilt of the sword, drawing it towards him. It felt good to have a weapon in his hand again, the adrenaline from the fight urging him on.

"I get it, I get it, you're pure," the faerie said quickly, his eyes widening in fear. "You… You can keep the sword, just let me go."

But Caspian could hardly hear, his grip tightening on the hilt of the sword, and his eyes focused on the wings, as he pushed the faerie's face into the ground. He moved the blade dangerously close to where the wings would meet the skin, his eyes a murky grey and unforgiving.

If there was a cliff leading to madness, he was about to dive off it.

Trying to shift, the faerie started begging, afraid of what he might do.

"Shut up," Caspian hissed in a low tone, "You don't need them, anyway."

But as the blade met skin, his vision shifted, and it was not a random faerie on the ground, but it was _himself_. And he could hear the faeries taunting him as they cut, their snickers engraved in his mind. He felt sick, his hand starting to shake, as he felt a stabbing pain all the way down his back.

Horrified, he dropped the sword before he could make the cut, scrambling backwards until his back met the wall of the alleyway. The faerie got up and ran, leaving the sword there on the ground as he escaped, a bit of blood remaining on the ground beside it.

Caspian stared at the sword, trying hard to draw himself out of thoughts of the past. He may have been broken and messed up, a shamed faerie, but he didn't want to turn into _them_.

Leaning a hand against the wall, as if to help keep himself upright, he walked away slowly, leaving the sword there on the ground, as if it would burn him if he picked it up again.

He couldn't deny it would be better for everyone if one day he just disappeared. Maybe the world would be better off without another broken faerie roaming around.

But he promised himself silently that he wouldn't die without putting up a fight.

* * *

 **Lyrics – Monster by Starset (I realised you already used them in a chapter, but oh well, I'll use them again. Haha)**


	17. Chapter 17 - In the Past 2

**~~ Caspian ~~**

He wasn't entirely certain how long it had been since the night he'd lost everything – perhaps a few days, if he had to guess – but Caspian had drifted in and out of consciousness ever since. He'd woken up in the medics tent of the Unseelie Court, lying on his stomach. He wasn't sure who had dragged him there, but it made him sick with shame to even think about it. On instinct, his hand had crept to the side, reaching for a staff that was no longer there. They'd destroyed his staff along with his life, and it was gone for good.

Even his dagger, had disappeared. He supposed the medic faeries didn't want him using it in his state, and it was probably a good thing, after he'd swung out at them with it, before turning the blade towards himself. They'd stopped him though, and had swiftly and firmly taken it away from him.

He groaned as he came to again, opening his eyes slowly. The pain in his back was blinding and he hardly dared to breathe, let alone move too much. It felt wrong, so wrong to not have the familiar weight of his wings on his back, and he would have preferred to have lost an arm, than that.

No one offered a pain killing spell in the Unseelie – it was seen as weak, and a cop out. Pain was a lesson, and if you couldn't stand it, then you wouldn't survive for long in the Court. He wouldn't have asked for one, anyway. He'd never stoop that low.

A medic came along, tugging lightly on the bandage wrapped around his middle, before they slowly started to unwrap it. A sense of shame and humiliation shot through him, and all he could think, was that he didn't want anyone to see his back. He hated how weak he was, and he refused to accept their help.

"Don't touch it," he hissed, tensing, which caused the pain in his back to flare up even worse. When they ignored him, he growled low in his throat. "I said, _don't touch it_."

He reached out his arm to the side and grabbed their wrist in a tight grip, his nails digging in sharply as he tried to stop them. The medic pulled their arm away roughly, and signalled to a couple of other medics, who came over to restrain him, despite his thrashing and cursing. As they held him down, the medic continued to take the bandages off, and he gritted his teeth when they pulled them off, some of the blood that had stuck to his back, coming off with it. He couldn't see what they were doing, and he panicked for a moment, his breaths coming quicker.

He couldn't let them hold him down again. He _couldn't_. Helpless, he felt like he was back on the grass that night, and he cried out in pain as he imagined the blade coming down on his wings.

Then, he was drawn abruptly out of his memories when they started to clean the blood off his back, before applying some cool salve, and he exhaled loudly, both relieved and embarrassed. As much as he cursed, they wouldn't stop, and he felt like he might go insane from the pain. He felt like his brain might split open, and maybe that would be a good thing, because he wouldn't have to face the disappointment and shame of his parents. He hadn't seen them yet, and they'd probably prefer him dead, than like this.

Before he could even react to stop the healers, he felt some healing magic being applied just above his back, and it made his back tingle and itch, and he pressed his eyes closed for a moment, before he could embarrass himself any more.

When he finally relaxed a little, he felt the hands lift off him, and he drew in a sharp breath. "Who brought me here?" he asked harshly, loathe to hear the answer.

The medic paused, before answering simply with, "Your father."

He felt sick imagining the disgust his father must have felt, and he could have died from the humiliation. Staying silent, he focused on the medic's footsteps, trying to think of anything but that.

Then, the medic then came around near his head, and he tried to protest as they laid a hand on the side of his head. He didn't want to be thrown back into the nightmares again, and he struggled to stop them, desperate not go back there, to his worst memories. It was too late however, as the sleeping spell took effect, and his eyes rolled up, casting him once again into darkness.

 **~~ Kellan ~~**

Kellan sparred with his brother in the training room, laughing as they both started to tire, their footwork becoming lazier and sloppier. They'd been training for most of the day though, so he thought they could be excused.

When his father finally called an end to their training, Kellan's chest glistened with sweat, and he pulled his shirt back on. Smiling, he clasped hands with his brother, happy with how they'd both fought. Although his brother was a year younger, he was larger and more muscly than him, while Kellan was slimmer, which was no surprise, when Kellan was the only one with some fae blood. It was unmistakable really, with Kellan's delicate fae features, and scarlet red hair, while his brother had darker brown hair. The one thing they had in common, was their hazel eyes. They were half-brothers, sharing the same Shadowhunter father, while Kellan's mother was a faerie from one of the Courts. He'd never met her, and he doubted he ever would, since she'd left him with his father to raise. He had another sibling, a younger sister, and he could just see her peek into the room as she watched, her brown pigtails swinging from side to side. She was still too young to train yet, and he glanced over at her with a fond smile, ruffling her hair as he walked past her, making her giggle.

Kellan was glad that they all got along so well. While others from the Clave might look at him with disdain, his family didn't treat him any differently, and he was grateful for that.

His favourite place to go besides the training room, was the greenhouse, and he made sure to visit there every day. His father had a fascination with birds, and had modified the greenhouse into a kind of bird aviary with mesh panels, and bird friendly plants. Kellan was delighted by them, loving animals and any kind of nature. He'd spent many hours pouring over books on birds, and studying what they liked to eat, as well as the different species.

Making his way into the greenhouse, he whistled back to one of the birds, a canary, when it greeted him with a sweet song. His father had collected many different species, and Kellan enjoyed interacting with them all. He reached out a hand, and a few of the birds flew onto his arm, perching there comfortably. Often, he ended up with some scratches on his arms from their claws, but he didn't mind too much, liking their company. Cheerily, he pulled some treats out of his pocket, feeding them.

Once he'd finished, he sat down on the stairs, and raised his free hand to the demon's tooth necklace that he wore around his neck absentmindedly. It was a reminder of his first Hunt, when he truly became a Shadowhunter, and he rarely took it off.

He laughed under his breath when one of the smaller birds perched on his head, pecking at some of the unruly curls there. "It's not a nest, I swear," he joked, reaching a hand up for it to fly onto. It adjusted itself, and he lowered his hand, down closer to his eyes, so he could see it. "What am I going to do with you, hey?"

Content, he sat like that for a while, observing the birds as they flew around the greenhouse. He knew that in a few years, he'd have to start thinking about travelling, and what he wanted to do in the future, but for now, he couldn't ever imagine leaving this Institute, his home.

Family had always been his first priority, and whether it be people or birds, he swore on his life that he'd never let them down.

 **~~ Aspen ~~**

The day had been pleasant enough so far, despite having to spend it with Nyx. They'd spent time walking through the streets, and Nyx had bought him a few gifts, his favourite being a new cloak. His old one had become dirty, the edges frayed from all its use. In exchange, Aspen had chatted with him and followed his requests diligently, smiling sweetly.

However, when Nyx steered him into a tavern, in one of the shadier areas of the Towns, he grew a little more apprehensive. Sitting down at a table there, Nyx ordered them both drinks. "You know I don't like drinking that stuff," Aspen said, lowering his voice slightly. He'd never liked alcohol much, and he was such a lightweight that he became a little ridiculous after just one drink.

"It's my treat," Nyx said, leaning back in his chair comfortably as he studied him. "I hope you're not turning down my generosity," he added, in a warning tone.

Aspen swallowed, shaking his head. After an earlier incident, Aspen had promised Nyx a whole day of his time, and he couldn't go back on his word now. "Okay… just one then," he agreed, finally.

However, one quickly turned into two, as Nyx ordered another while he was talking, slipping some money over to him, under the table as a reward. Aspen tucked the notes into his pocket, gratefully. He could already feel the effects of the alcohol kicking in, making him more easy going and compliant, and he couldn't refuse the second drink, giggling slightly when he spilled some on the table, as he lifted it to his lips. Nyx looked extremely amused, his eyes focused intently on him.

"See, it's not so bad, right?" he said, languidly.

"It's strong," Aspen said, taking another sip. "Strong like my charms," he giggled, before wondering absentmindedly what he'd just said.

When he'd finished it, he stood up after Nyx, and Nyx linked arms with him, partly to lead him, and partly to keep him upright. "We're gonna have some fun tonight, kid," Nyx smiled, as he led him towards the back room of the tavern.

Aspen was a little too giddy to protest, and he glanced over at Nyx's friends as they joined them. "Here," one of them said, slipping Nyx something in a packet.

Nyx looked down at it, before reaching for Aspen's hand, and unfurling his fingers. "These are like heaven, I swear. Have a couple."

Aspen shook his head, slowly, trying to pull his hand away weakly. "No-" he said, and laughed. "I… I shouldn't take things like that. It isn't good."

"If I say it's good, then it is," Nyx whispered, his mouth stirring the hair near Aspen's ear.

When Aspen still didn't accept it, Nyx let go of his hand, instead taking two of the tablets into his own hand, and raising it to Aspen's mouth.

"You're gonna take these, and you're gonna swallow. Right? Because if you don't, it'll mean a lot of trouble for you and your friends, and I won't be so nice," Nyx hissed, pushing Aspen's mouth open, and placing the tablets inside, before Aspen finally swallowed.

"Good," Nyx crooned, stroking Aspen's hair for a moment. "You know I like it when you're good. These are some new faerie drugs. They come in tablet form, which is handy."

Aspen blinked and nodded, and the room seemed a little hazier than before. As Nyx and his friends slid into one of the booths of the tavern, Nyx turned to Aspen with a sly smile. "Kiss him," he commanded, nodding towards one of the faeries. They all watched expectantly, and Aspen moved over closer to the faerie, eager to please. Sitting on his lap, he draped his arms over his shoulders. Leaning forward, he kissed him, and he couldn't describe what he looked like, his face a blur, but he tasted like alcohol.

They kissed for a bit longer, before Nyx told him to kiss the next faerie. Trailing a hand down their cheek, Aspen couldn't help but feel like he was in a dream. He leaned in to kiss him, before he felt a little confused, when it all felt so wrong. "Cas, what-…" he started, a little disorientated, before he realised, 'oh, it couldn't be Cas,' when the faerie nibbled on his lower lip, before roughly opening his mouth, as he deepened the kiss and pushed his tongue down his throat.

It became harder to tell whether he was dreaming or awake, as the faerie drew him to his feet, pulling him over towards some faeries dancing in the corner.

"I… don't feel so well…" Aspen blinked, still tasting the bitter taste of the drink on his lips, and the room spun in a dizzying array of colours.

"You're fine, sweetheart," Nyx called out, in a soothing tone, watching from the side.

He nodded along, smiling on instinct as the faerie drew him closer, the music loud in his ears.

 **ooOoo**

A light through the windows drew Aspen from his sleep, the throbbing of a dull headache consuming his thoughts. His hand dangled over the edge of the bed, and he sat up quickly, confused as he tried to remember how he'd gotten to the hotel. Getting up, he grabbed his shirt, which was hanging over a chair, and he winced at a slight pain in his side when he twisted. Glancing at his wrists, he frowned at the red marks encircling them, before pausing to stare into a mirror. There was a large bruise on his side, and he tried to wrack his brain, but he just couldn't remember how he'd gotten it. Leaning forward, he brushed some blood off his lower lip, before straightening. He then pulled his shirt over his head and wings, before feeling relieved when he found his sword and cloak tossed on the desk. If he'd lost those, he would have been very annoyed.

With his sword at his side, and his hood covering his hair, he felt a little more like himself. The pain and the bruises, he could ignore, and he glanced at the room one last time – at the messed-up sheets, and the pillows thrown on the floor, before he strolled out the door. The keys he'd found on the table swung in his fingers, and he tossed them over to the person at the reception desk of the hotel. He was almost tempted to ask them who he'd come in with, before he stopped himself, throwing them a flirtatious smile, instead. He wouldn't show them anything else.

Thinking he'd spent much too much time away from the Hunt, he then hurried back, trying to scrub the questions and the muddled thoughts about the previous night from his mind. Keeping in control of himself was important to him, and losing that, even for a night, was not a pleasant thought. Increasing his pace, he sighed, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

It was one night, and it didn't mean anything. When the headache was gone, he was sure he'd just forget about it.

Like he always did.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I wrote this chapter really quickly on the way home, so hopefully it's alright. I still have that other longer chapter to finish, haha, but I wanted to be able to post something quickly, after all the amazing chapters you've posted. Anyway, this is a short chapter of things that happened in the past, although fairly recently.**

* * *

Starting to feel sore in the saddle, Kellan tried to adjust to a more comfortable position, although it was of little use. He wasn't used to riding for long periods – he'd only learnt how to ride a horse at the Hunt, and he'd rarely needed to ride since. That's what he thought anyway. Of course, he could have learnt how to ride in his past life, but from the unfamiliar feeling when he first rode, he doubted it. Deciding he wasn't experienced enough, he'd quickly decided to use a saddle and reins to help out.

Sol on the other hand, looked like a natural, when Kellan glanced over at him. The other faerie's horse tossed its head, and Sol kept his hand in its mane, keeping up a fast pace. Sol's horse's eyes were unnerving when they shifted to him, and Kellan could have sworn that one day its red eyes would burn a hole through him.

Looking away from it quickly, Kellan glanced around at the rolling hills of the Land Under the Hill in wonder. He doubted he'd ever be able to get used to the view and ever-changing landscape, its contents a mystery to him. It was undoubtedly a beautiful place, although he kept a careful eye out, well aware of the dangers of the free lands. He almost felt like he'd feel more relaxed once they made it to the Seelie Court, since the Queen had not yet meant them any harm, and he was more familiar with that threat, than with the unknown creatures in the bushes, whose laughs rang out when they rode past.

The main thing he missed from the mundane world, was his bird companion, and he'd been sad to leave the bird behind. Of course, he couldn't bring it to the Faerie. It wouldn't understand the threats, and he doubted it would live long. Even Kellan himself felt a bit out of place, as if the Land Under the Hill could sense he was only part faerie. It wasn't like many with Shadowhunter blood – even if he was a Hunt faerie now – travelled there, and he felt noticed, and not in a good way.

Hungry and tired, he glanced over at the messenger, to see how he was faring. He didn't look like he was in much better shape, and Kellan didn't blame him. It was their second day of riding, and they'd only had a short break the night before, with Sol then forcing them onwards.

Knowing an argument might ensue, Kellan glanced over at Sol reluctantly for a moment. "I think we should stop for another rest now," he suggested. "We've been riding for a while."

Sol frowned, the faded green at the ends of his hair indistinguishable in the increasingly dim lighting. "We can go a bit longer, surely. The faster we get there, the better."

"I think we're all hungry and tired," Kellan replied, trying to sound reasonable. "Are you tired?" he asked the messenger, and he nodded quickly. "Then we'll stop. We don't want to be exhausted when we reach the Court."

Sol made a sound of annoyance, although he stayed silent, and they stopped at a clearing. Kellan got off his horse in a rather ungraceful manner, his foot accidentally catching in the strap of his saddlebag for a moment, causing him to tumble down to the ground. Sol gave a snigger, dismounting with one, graceful leap. The messenger dismounted as well, and Kellan led the horses over to a patch of grass. "I can do first watch-…" he started to say, before Sol interrupted.

"I will," Sol snapped. "We can't trust someone inexperienced out here, like you, to be keeping an eye out. The only reason you're coming, is on the Queen's request. Why she would be interested in _you_ , I'm not sure."

Kellan merely sighed, not seeing the point in arguing. Sol certainly hadn't been great company for the trip, but he was a skilled fighter, and had helped them avoid a few close calls. However, he couldn't help but ask, "Are you questioning the Queen's taste?" He knew Sol had a high opinion of her, and he regretted his remark almost instantly, especially at Sol's scowl in response as he walked off to scan the perimeter. "…Let me know if you want to switch with me," Kellan called out quickly, wanting to avoid an argument.

Laying down and using his cloak as a pillow, Kellan's thoughts raced, a little too nervous to sleep. He wasn't looking forward to seeing the Queen, after all. Her keen interest in him was disconcerting, and he guessed it must be because he was a former Shadowhunter, turned Hunt faerie. She always did find things that were different, quite fascinating, or so he'd heard. Closing his eyes, he tried to slow his thoughts, focusing on the light breathing of the messenger as he slept, and the sound of Sol's footsteps on the grass.

* * *

Sick of spending so much time cooped up indoors at the Institute, Rose accepted an invitation from her mundane friends to go out to lunch and shopping, gladly. She hadn't seen them in a long time – since before the Hunt incident, after which she'd been afraid to go out. Despairing after her hair for a while, she then curled it a little, so it would have a slight wave, before applying her usual makeup to accentuate her gold eyes. It often took her hours to get ready, and she was glad they'd given her plenty of notice.

Skipping down the streets, it didn't take her long to make it to the shops, and she texted her friends, to ask where to meet them. She got an almost instant response, and she hurried to meet them outside of H&M. When she got there however, she looked in disappointment at their numerous shopping bags already hanging from their arms, as the three of them talked. They were too enwrapped in their conversation to notice her, so she sang out their names, with a sweet smile. All turning to her at the same time, they looked at her for a moment, with their mouths slightly ajar, staring at her hair.

"Wow, your hair!" One of them, Melissa, called out.

"It's so-… Short," Sally commented, walking over to run her hand through the ends.

Rose tried hard to not let her smile slip. She was suddenly glad that Cadyn had drawn the Rune on a place where it couldn't be seen – on her back, right under the hem of her dress - when she'd come back from the Hunt. "Oh, I know. Surprising, right?"

"It's-… Nice," Maria added, although Rose could tell she didn't really like how short it was. "I could hardly recognise you."

"It's very brave, going for something so different," Sally continued. "I mean, long hair is still so in fashion at the moment."

The light in her eyes faded, and she tried to keep a chirpy tone, replying quickly with, "Oh, don't worry. I'll grow it back," she giggled. "I just wanted a change. That's all," she said, swallowing at the sour taste of the lie.

"It looks good, of course. Although I've always been envious of your long, curly hair," Melissa said, moving to link arms with her. "We were just going to have lunch. Want to join us and get something?"

Rose nodded, scanning the shops. "Of course I'll come. I don't think I'll get anything though. I'm not… hungry," she replied, standing up a little straighter, and wishing she was taller. Melissa always seemed to tower over her.

"Oh, you're so good, Rose," they all smiled, saying how they wished they were as skinny as she was, reaching out to tug on her arm.

With a beaming smile, she followed them over to the cafes, happy at the praise, and the thought of being included.

* * *

Relieved when he'd finished his shift, Jai headed to Finn's work, without thinking. He knew Finn would be finishing up as well, and he decided to walk home with him. That was if Finn was going home, and not out again, like he did sometimes.

Calling out a greeting with a slight smile, when he watched Finn struggling to lock the old doors of the strange exhibit where he walked, Jai paused beside him.

"Ah, Jai," Finn grinned. "Come to accompany me back? How kind of you."

Finn tucked the keys into his pocket, before taking Jai's hand, as he tugged him down the street.

"How was work?" Jai asked, glancing sidelong at him.

"Oh, the same as usual. Although I had some really cute werewolf customer today," Finn replied, looking cheerful, before explaining what he looked like in great detail.

"That's… good," Jai said after clearing his throat, careful not to frown. He didn't particularly like hearing about such stories, but Finn wasn't afraid to confide everything and anything in him, and he wasn't about to complain.

Finn changed direction, and Jai knew exactly where he was heading. There was only one place down the old street that Finn would go to. "Hungry?" Jai asked, following along without protesting.

"I haven't had anything sweet in like… ages. I promise," Finn laughed, and Jai didn't point out his lie, having seen him sucking on a lollypop a few days ago. Then again, maybe that was classified as ages, for Finn. Instead, Jai merely laughed good-naturedly, regarding him with a smile.

"Oh, I'm sure," he replied knowingly, as Finn pulled him into his favourite lolly shop. It had a large range, and if Jai didn't eventually persuade Finn that they had other things to do, then sometimes he doubted Finn would ever leave.

"I won't be long, I promise," Finn said, his different coloured eyes excited, as they roamed the shelves.

"It's fine, don't worry," Jai said, before making a quick decision. "You can pick what you like, and I'll buy it. The apartment needs a restocking of some sweets, anyway." As much as he made out it might be for both of them, it was obvious that Finn would be the one to eat it. Jai had always preferred savory, and he was never one to eat too many sweets when they weren't healthy, anyway. However, he wanted to add some more to the lolly bowl he often left out for Finn. He didn't often splurge on things, but he was happy to brighten Finn's expression, and it wouldn't take too much out of his pay.

"You're the best, Jai!" Finn exclaimed, leaning over to kiss his cheek for a moment in thanks. Then, he continued roaming around the aisles, filling up his arms with his favourite lollypops and sour worms and other assorted candy that Jai couldn't recognise or keep up with. Jai leaned against the wall, watching him fondly when he wasn't looking. There was nothing quite like watching Finn at a candy shop.

Finally, Finn looked somewhat satisfied, and he dumped the candy onto the counter. Jai laughed, shaking his head at the assorted bags, as he pulled out some cash. Finn's grateful smile was worth it though, and he picked up the bags after he'd paid, heading to the door.

Finn wrapped his arm around Jai, resting his head against his shoulder for a moment. "Let's go home," Jai suggested. "Before I go broke, or you go into some kind of candy coma," he added, in amusement.

"Alright! Let's go back," Finn agreed, although he reached into one of the bags to pull out a lollypop as they walked. Jai expected him to put it in his own mouth when he unwrapped it, and he was surprised when Finn held it to his lips, teasingly. "You've got to try this one. It's a new flavour. _Please_ ," Finn begged, and Jai couldn't help but comply, opening his mouth a little, so Finn could move the lollypop into his mouth.

"It's good right?" Finn asked, in excitement.

Jai raised a hand to hold the stick of the lollypop, and he gave it an experimental lick. "Yeah, it's good."

Looking just as happy as he had in the shops, Finn reached over to pluck it from his fingers, and give it a quick lick himself. "Mmm, I think this is a new favourite. Although it's not as nice as you, don't worry."

Jai blushed lightly and adjusted his glasses, unable to help a slight smile as they walked back.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Just some quick things I wrote about events that happened somewhat recently in the rp…**

* * *

 _~~ Caspian and Finn~~_

Getting increasingly frustrated after he'd checked yet another tavern, Caspian gritted his teeth, his eyes darting around the street. He'd still seen no sign of Aspen, and he'd already snapped at quite a number of Downworlders, in his apprehension. Finally, he resorted to turning towards the place of exhibits were Finn worked, despite his disgust of both the place, and the other faerie. When he reached it, he pulled the door open and stalked inside.

Looking up at the sound of the bell, Finn smiled out of habit, as he turned to look at the door, before his smile fell when he recognised the cloak figure. "Ah, you probably shouldn't be here-…" he started, before taking a step backwards, when the other faerie continued towards him.

"Tell me where Aspen is," Caspian demanded, his silver eye now a stormy grey as he advanced towards Finn.

"I would if I could, but I don't know where he is," Finn replied quickly, nervous when he couldn't back away any further. "If I knew, then I'd go there and-…"

"Shut up," Caspian growled, pushing him up against the wall roughly, his hand knotting in Finn's shirt, and a dagger pressed against his neck. "I'm not interested in your lies. Just tell me what you know."

" _Shit_ ," Finn swore, as he stared into the other faerie's wild eyes, and he tried to hold up a hand. "Okay, okay, I don't know where he is, but I know he's with Nyx. Nyx told me so. I don't know if he's in trouble, but…" Breathing a sigh in relief when Caspian let him go, he slid away, heading back behind the counter, to keep some distance between them.

"Nyx?" Caspian spat, narrowing his eyes. "Why would he be there? Where the hell is Nyx?"

"I don't know, I swear. He wouldn't tell me, and there wasn't anything I could do," Finn replied, rubbing his neck. He could sense the other faerie was worried, despite his anger, and he hoped that maybe he'd be more successful in finding out where Aspen was. For all his joking around, Finn did still care. Clearing his throat, he looked over at him tentatively. "Maybe you can do something."

"I'll find him," Caspian replied firmly, starting away quickly, towards the door. Slipping outside, he tried to calm his racing thoughts. "I won't stop looking until I do," he muttered, under his breath.

* * *

 _~~ Kellan ~~_

Kellan tossed and turned at the flashes of memories and faces in his dreams. There were faces he could have sworn he'd never seen before, and yet they seemed increasingly familiar. Sweat stuck his red curls to his forehead, and he felt trapped, merely an observer on the outside.

 _Again_! There was the young girl with the brown pigtails, and the innocent face. The boy, not much younger than him, who looked different, but had the same coloured hazel eyes as his own eye, the one that had not darkened from the Hunt. There was birds and blood and people calling his name desperately, as he lay there.

With a gasp, he finally managed to claw himself out of his dream, sitting up quickly. He was disorientated, not on the usual soft grass of the Hunt base. Taking a few breaths to calm himself, he reached for the demon tooth at his neck, clasping his fingers around it and letting the tip dig into his palm, until it drew blood. The sharp ache helped to ground him, as his eyes adjusted to the light, and his memories came back to him. He was visiting the Seelie Court, he reminded himself, and he stood up, walking over to run his fingers against the cool wall of the grotto. The Queen had kindly set it up for him to stay in while he visited and waited for her, although with the constant guard out the front, it felt more like a prison.

Focusing on his breathing, he tried to sort through the confusing dreams. Lately the dreams had increased, after the first time he'd visited the Seelie Court, and the Queen had showed him some things. But that night had been worse than normal, and he froze at a sudden thought. _Had the Queen invaded his dreams, through magic or other means_? Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to pull himself together. Now he was being paranoid, and that certainly wasn't going to get him anywhere.

He'd been anxious enough, worrying about the Hunt and what was happening there while he was gone. The Queen had seen him once, only briefly, before insisting he stay longer.

Pacing for a little while, he then walked over to the grotto entrance, looking at the guard standing there. "Excuse me, do you know when the Queen will be free?" he asked, keeping his tone polite.

"I'm afraid not," was all the guard replied, and Kellan tried not to look disheartened, as he glanced around the grotto again.

The way he saw it, the Seelie Court didn't owe him anything, and neither did he owe it anything in return.

* * *

 _~~ Mason ~~_

Working on some papers at a desk in his study, Mason looked up at a knock on the door. _Just in time_ , he thought, calling out for them to come in. The Tides – Stephanie's parents - walked in, and Mason watched them carefully, from his seat, where he remained sitting. He could see the resemblance to Stephanie and Loki, and he kept his expression detached, sitting up a little straighter.

"You must be the Tides. Have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the two chairs on the other side of his desk. It was a form of power play, and he suspected the father would be annoyed that Mason didn't stand up when they arrived. They were both the Heads of an Institute, so technically they were at a similar level. However, Mason's ties to the Clave were much stronger, and he was the only one in the room taught to the Academy's standard. Not to mention, the rumours that surrounded the London Institute…

Hiding a self-satisfied smile, he decided to take matters into his own hands and start them off, always liking to have the advantage. "I received your correspondence, and I assume you have come, as you stated, to look into the details of your son's death."

"The report is rubbish," Stephanie's father leaned forward in his seat to say. "Our son would never die in such a way. He's not stupid-"

Mason held up a hand, to stop him. "And yet, as the report said, he had clearly had a lot to drink. That can impair your thinking and your balance."

"Our son would not have just tripped," was the father's retort, and he started to look angry. "He was a good Shadowhunter, and such a thought is ridiculous. Staining his name like that… it's appalling."

"Many here can testify to his drinking habits," Mason said, keeping his voice calm and unbothered, careful not to let his distaste at the topic of conversation show. He'd never liked Loki, never finding him a particularly adept or diligent Shadowhunter. "And I myself found him, and saw his state. It happened right near a tavern, and the wound to his head was consistent with what I saw there at the surroundings. There was no sign of a struggle, or any other injuries."

"I don't believe you," the father argued, and Mason raised an eyebrow, tapping his foot against the ground.

"Are you implying I'm lying?" Mason asked, his tone low, in a warning.

"I'm not sure yet. But we'll soon find out," the father replied, the chair making a grating sound against the ground, as he pushed it back.

"You understand, we're just upset, don't you?" the mother said, standing up after him, and resting a hand on her husband's arm, as if to calm him, her voice quiet. "Loki was a good boy. We owe it to him to find out what really happened… Maybe it was made to look like that."

"Of course," Mason replied, resisting the urge to sigh. Picking up a stack of papers on his desk, he passed it to them. "Here are the notes on the case. You can read through them and return them when you're finished. I have other matters to attend to, but I hope you find the accommodation to your satisfaction." He'd made sure they had decent rooms – they were the Head of an Institute, after all, and maybe if they felt satisfied, they'd hurry up and leave sooner. He didn't need to deal with any of their problems or trouble. Besides, they were undesirable to have there, with the habits and low morals of the London Institute. The rumours of drinking, gambling, and Downworld parties and associations. The sooner they left, the better.

Standing up, he led them to the door, holding it open. "Let me know if you have any questions," he said, watching them carefully as they started out into the hallway.

"We'll let the Clave know if we do," Loki's father replied, as they left, clutching the papers in his hands.


	20. Chapter 20 - In the Past 3

**A/N: Another quick chapter on events in the past. Also, sorry but I realised I only wrote about my characters again. :( :(**

* * *

 **~~ Caspian ~~**

Caspian's mood soured as he headed towards the meadow where his parents had organised for him to meet with her. Reluctant, he had to force himself to head there, instead of turning towards the more comforting thought of the training grounds.

 _Tiana Floret._

She waited there for him, sitting down on the grass, the wind blowing a strand of her long, auburn hair over her face. He supposed she'd be considered pretty, even by faerie standards, especially with her transparent purple wings. But that had never meant much to him, as he decided skill and intelligence were much more important in battles and survival.

"Caspian," she smiled, when she looked up and saw him, inclining her head in a fae-like gesture of respect. He came to a stop, and folded his arms, his expression closed off. She seemed like she was waiting for him to sit as well, and when he didn't, she stood up slowly. "I'm glad we could meet."

"We can speak plainly," he replied, after a pause. "I doubt I'm any more interested in this, than you are."

"We'd be a good pairing. With both of our bloodlines traced back to the archangel Camael, and both strengthened by a Greater demon, you know it's true," she said, resolutely, and she raised her chin a little.

He considered remaining silent, and as if he couldn't bear to look at her anymore, he glanced out at the meadow, instead. There were shadows cast on the grass, from the ancient Unseelie trees surrounding it. "Doesn't mean I have to like it," he muttered, finally.

"I brought you something," she continued, as if brushing his words away, and she pulled something out from underneath the folds of her cloak. He stiffened, his eyes flickering there on instinct, used to people pulling out weapons, not gifts. However, it was as she'd said, and she passed him a large leaf with a fae verse written on it in elegant writing. He took it reluctantly, only glancing at the words briefly, before he tucked it into his cloak.

"Listen-…" he started, before cutting himself off, as she walked around him in a circle, her eyes drawn to his wings. He straightened, his gaze following her carefully.

"Imagine what colour wings the little one would have," she said, her gaze meeting his eyes again. "With their parents having such beautiful ones. A mix of sky blue and a royal purple, perhaps."

"It hasn't been decided yet," he retorted, a hint of defensiveness in his words. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

Tilting her head to the side slightly, she gave a light laugh. "Our parents get along well, so I don't see why they won't agree."

This time, he did remain silent, his expression stony. Nothing had been decided for certain yet, and he refused to act like it was going to happen, when there was a chance it might not.

Staring at a nearby tree, his gaze shifted quickly at the rustle of the grass, as Tiana leaned forward to touch his cheek, resting her fingers there lightly. Immediately, he flinched back, grabbing her wrist as he pushed her hand away. "Don't," he snapped, unable to keep the frustration from his tone.

"You wouldn't want to hurt me," she said in a low tone, tugging at her wrist, when he tightened his grip, instinctively. "They wouldn't like that."

Exhaling sharply, he let go, before turning away, not in the mood for such a meeting.

"What does it take to earn your respect?" she sighed, and he could feel her gaze burning into his back.

Pausing, he glanced back at her. "If you wanted my respect, you'd fight me. I've hardly seen you fight." Gritting his teeth, his silver eyes slowly turned cold, like ice. "I never asked for this. I don't want this… Any of it."

Ignoring what she had left to say, her words fell away behind him as he started away, his footsteps harsh against the crisp grass in his haste. Reaching beneath his cloak, his fingers closed around the leaf and pulled it out.

Staring at it in his hand for a moment, he then let it go and watched as it fluttered to the ground, before continuing on.

 **~~ Finn and Jai ~~**

After leaving his home and dropping out of school, Finn found himself drawn to the mystery of the Downworld Towns. He met Jai there, who was also a half-faerie, close to his own age, and they got on well. Often, Finn would come up with some bad ideas and drag Jai along, and that day was no exception.

As they sat in a bar and ordered a drink each with the last of their coins, Jai looked doubtful. "I still don't see how spending this is going to _earn_ us money."

"Just trust me. I have my ideas," Finn merely grinned, taking a sip of his red lemonade.

It was a tavern where some of the wealthier Downworlders went, to gamble in the back rooms. Finn had already sussed it out, and decided he could make some money for them both. Nothing was honest about the Towns, so he didn't feel bad about his thoughts at all.

"There," Finn said, nodding his head towards a vampire with a couple of gold rings around his fingers. "He'd have a bit."

"Finn," Jai said, in a warning tone, although Finn just found it cute that he was worried. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Trust me," Finn repeated again, giving Jai a wink, before he walked over to sit beside the vampire.

"I've always admired vampires," Finn said, his eyes bright. "It must be hard being immortal, but never getting to see the sun."

They chatted for a time, Finn listening carefully and nodding along, all the while leaning closer.

"I've got to go. My friend is missing me," Finn said finally, leaning in to kiss his cheek, his hand sneaking forward as well, in and out of his pocket before the vampire could even notice.

Then, he headed back to Jai, looking pleased with himself as he quickly flashed the notes he'd pinched, before stashing them in his pocket.

"We've got to do this quickly, before they realise," Finn said, scanning the room for someone else.

"It's dangerous," Jai said, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Maybe we should just stick with that."

"Don't be silly. I've got this," Finn said, picking out another victim carefully.

This time, it was a faerie, and he couldn't tell where they kept their money, so he played along. "Do you have a coin, my lady? I'll show you a magic trick," he said, charmingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he approached her. She obliged with a laugh, taking out her purse from a bag resting nearby. She pulled out a single coin, before resting her purse on the counter. Taking the coin with a bow, Finn performed his trick, making the coin disappear, before pulling it out from behind her ear.

"Ta da!" he grinned, endearingly, holding it up. Then, in a moment of pretend clumsiness as he tried to pass it to her, he let it slip from his fingers, to the ground. "Sorry," he exclaimed quickly, taking a step backwards, towards the counter, as she bent down to get the coin. While she was preoccupied with picking it up, he slipped the purse off the counter towards him, grabbing some money, before setting it back again.

"You can keep it, for your efforts," she laughed again as she straightened, passing him the coin, and he kissed her hand, before making his way back to Jai.

"See? It's easy. They won't even miss it," Finn whispered to Jai, his eyes focused on him. "Now, it's your turn."

"My turn?" Jai repeated, paling. "I won't be able to do it. I'm not even good at lying."

Finn smiled, shaking his head. "Just think of it as a game, not a lie. Here, you just talk to them, and I'll worry about getting the money, okay?" Without waiting for a response, he stood up again, taking Jai's hand, and pulling him towards the bar. "Just keep them talking and keep their attention. I know you can do that."

After Jai talked with some Downworlders about inconsequential things, and Finn had stolen some money from them, they then sat together in the walkway leading to the back rooms, counting the money. Splitting it evenly, despite Jai's protests that he'd done less work, Finn handed him his share, before tucking his own into his pocket. "See? Now we have enough money for food. And it didn't even take that long."

Jai rolled his eyes, before s smile broke through, and he carefully tucked the money away. "Thank you, Finn. It'll keep me going for a bit, at least."

As they moved to leave, Finn's gaze was drawn to the back rooms, to the sound of rolling dice, and a round of applause. His eyes lit up as he took a few steps closer until he stood in the doorway, watching the Downworlders gambling.

Jai tugged on his arm. "Come on, you said we can't stay here long, remember?"

Finn nodded absentmindedly, finally turning away to follow Jai, although the clink of the dice followed him a long time after he'd left the tavern.

 **~~ Steff ~~**

Her brother Loki was out again that day, although Steff didn't dare ask where.

As her parents talked in low voices at the table while they ate dinner, Steff packed up the ingredients she'd used to make it, in the kitchen. She knew they were talking about the new visitors, from an Institute overseas – which one, she wasn't sure – but she didn't care to hear what they were planning. For there were always plans and schemes, and she wasn't interested in getting caught up in them, if she could avoid it. However, her curse from the demon often forced her to.

"Stephanie," her mother called, "Your father would like to speak to you." It wasn't a command, but her mother often talked like that, keeping her words pleasant. It was her father who wasn't fussed by such things.

Setting down a bowl she'd been about to put away, she swallowed, a little nervous as she walked over to join them.

"We need your help, Stephanie," her father said, standing up, and starting into the hallway. "Follow me."

Reluctantly, she followed him from the room, unable to do anything else. However, she walked slowly, feeling the curse gradually urge her on, to follow his command.

"Hurry up. They'll be here soon, and we need you to be ready," he said, not bothering to glance back at her.

Biting her lip, she walked faster, until she was right behind him, following him up the stairs. Realising where they were going, as they turned down the hallway towards the guest rooms, she felt her anxiety grow.

The guest room was clean and neatly set out, as she'd left it, and she stopped in the doorway when her father shifted a rug, and pulled up a trap doorway. It was hidden unless you knew it was there, and it led to a small space just under the floorboards.

"Please no, it's so dark and cramped," she begged, her heart hammering in her chest. "I hate it in there."

"It's only for the night, darling." Her mother's voice was soothing, but it did little to calm her nerves.

When she didn't move, her father narrowed his eyes. "Get in there, now, and you stay in there, until we tell you to come out."

Biting her lip, she moved forward, stopping at the trapdoor, and lowering herself into the small space carefully, drawing her knees to her chest.

Her father looked down at her, reaching for the trap door. "Listen and tell us anything they say that's of any importance. You know what we're looking for. And don't make a sound," he commanded. With that, he shut the door, plunging the small space into darkness. She listened to the rug shift back into place, and raised her eye to the small peephole, where she could just make out a tiny bit of light.

Their footsteps faded away as they left the room, and she took a deep breath. The wait would be a long one, she knew, and she couldn't let the dark and the silence get to her. Tightening her arms around her legs, she closed her eyes, hoping she'd be able to sleep to pass the time and escape the claustrophobic feeling.

She must have dozed off eventually, as she was jolted awake at the sound of the door swinging open. Moving her head, she positioned her eye near the hole again, listening carefully.

It was a young couple, she could make out from their voices, and she was sure they were the Heads of an Institute, by the way they talked about it.

They chatted about the London Institute, remarking on the hospitality, and the fact that both of the children seemed to be away. They talked about the Clave as well, and an upcoming meeting.

Then their voices lowered to a whisper, and she strained to hear them.

"We can't let them know about the investigation," the male Shadowhunter said, and he sounded anxious. "Otherwise questions will be raised about the death of that werewolf."

"Don't worry about that now. They think we're just visiting as a stopover… They won't suspect anything," the girl replied, and it sounded as if she was trying to convince both of them.

Listening carefully, her heart sank. She knew exactly what her father would do with the information, as blackmail was a particular talent of his. These were Shadowhunters they didn't even know, and they were about to be put into some difficult situations.

Suddenly, her stomach grumbled loudly, and she pressed a hand to it quickly, realising she hadn't eaten any dinner herself. Holding her breath, she listened for the voices, hoping they would dismiss the sound, if they'd indeed heard it.

There was a long moment of silence, before she heard them continue on, and she let out a breath in relief.

Eventually, the old bed gave a creak, as she heard them sit on the bed. There was another stranger sound and a low moan, and she wondered what it was for a moment, before she realised they must be kissing. Embarrassed to be listening to such an intimate moment, she quickly put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. It had to be only… nine or so hours until it would be morning and she could get out, she told herself.

Shivering, she rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to adjust her position to a more comfortable one.

She just had to wait it out.

 **~~ Jagger ~~**

Waiting in a dimly lit alley in the Downworld Towns, Jagger turned at every noise he heard, a little nervous to be kept waiting so long. He was used to the unsavoury parts of the Towns, of course, since his gang's base was there, but he didn't want to be caught if someone found out.

Eventually however, he could relax at the familiar sound of two sets of boots hitting the pavement and he turned to watch them.

"Where are they at?" Gunner asked, while the other gang member scanned the streets.

Jagger nodded towards a shady looking hotel at the end of the street. It was one that often turned its gaze away when certain activities happened there, so they didn't have to worry. Jagger wasn't sure whether it was because the gang paid them, or because they didn't care what happened there. Either way, it didn't really matter. "She'll be waiting at the usual hotel, at seven pm. Room fifteen," he said, handing them the second key.

"Thanks, Jagger," Gunner said, pulling some cash out of his pocket and handing it to him. "The usual $250. Then we'll give you the other $250 when we're done."

Jagger merely put the money in his pocket and nodded, preferring not to know the details. The five hundred dollars might have sounded like a lot, but faerie wings fetched a high price at the black-market auctions, and there was always enough to go around. If their gang sold enough wings, then they could be set up for life. It was a little ridiculous really, that people paid so much for them. They were a previous living appendage, which people stuck in their living rooms, or wherever else they felt like, and that struck him as a little gross.

"See you back at the hangout," Gunner said in farewell, giving a slight wave, and a knife glinted at his side, in the dim lighting. They always brought strong weapons that would cut through anything.

He pondered the pure faerie girl for a moment, in thought, as he turned away, tucking his hands in his pockets. After they took the faeries' wings, he never had contact with them again, and for good reason. He tried not to think too much about how they adjusted afterwards, but he'd always thought some faeries seemed stronger than others, and she seemed like one of the weaker ones. Pretty, but weak. It was a shame she had been given such nice wings, when she wasn't strong enough to keep them.

But if there was one thing he'd learnt in the Towns, it was that everything in life was for sale, and if you didn't profit from it, then someone else would.


	21. Chapter 21 - A Day at the Beach

**A/N: Here I am writing about a sunny day, on a particularly rainy day here. :) This chapter is set not long after the battle with the Hunt. I've been meaning to write this for a while, so here it is finally. And at the end there's a part with some of the faerie boys, because I couldn't leave them out. hahaha**

* * *

It was a perfectly sunny day for a beach trip, and Steff glanced around in interest, glad there was no one else at the small beach they'd chosen. It was nicer that way, with just the inhabitants of the Institute, without the need for Glamours, and the like.

Rose had organised the day, and invited everyone, wanting them to celebrate 'winning' the battle against the Hunt faeries. Celebrating had been the last thing on Steff's mind after what had happened. However, she knew it was Rose's way of coping, and some of them definitely needed the break, so she was happy to help where she could.

It was a tough job trying to Portal everyone from the Institute to the beach, but they had managed it in the end. Anyone was invited – be they Shadowhunters or Downworlders. Surveying the beach, Steff couldn't help but smile, as the light breeze stirred her golden hair. She hadn't been to the beach much when she lived in England. In fact, she could only think of one time when she was much younger, and her family had gone to the Sunny Sands beach at Kent, less than an hour away. Often, it was too cool to swim, and on the day she'd gone, it had been rainy, and not nearly as nice. The sand had been grainer, and it didn't have the waves this beach did.

She watched in amusement as Rose ordered some of the boys around. "No, they need to be closer to the water," Rose ordered, standing with her hands on her hips, as Abel, Park and Caleb moved the beach umbrellas and seats closer. "There, much better!"

Rolling her eyes, Layla picked up one of the seats and moved it out from under the umbrella, and into the sunlight. "I could do with some sun," she said, sitting down and stretching out. Park and Caleb moved to sit near her, and Steff walked away, over towards the seats in the shade, as Caleb started talking about his favourite games, spouting off a list of high scores, to which Layla countered with her own.

Sitting near Ember, Rose, Leah, and Savannah, she gave them a smile, accepting a water bottle from Ember gratefully, when she passed one to her. "You picked a beautiful day, Rose," she remarked, watching the waves, contentedly.

"Of course I did," Rose giggled, fanning herself. She was dressed in a cute spotted pink bikini set, although Steff would never have the courage to wear something like that, herself. "I knew it would be."

"It's a shame not everyone could come," Leah remarked, looking thoughtful. "Mason and Alaric were some of the leaders, after all."

They weren't the only ones absent. Connor wasn't there, although it was no surprise. He'd only just lost his brother in the battle, and Steff grew sad as she thought about it, and the time not long ago, when she'd sat outside his door, talking to him. Also, while Abel had come, but he hadn't been able to convince his brother, Elijah, to come, since he'd thought it was a waste of time.

"A shame?" Savannah repeated. She wasn't afraid to wear bikinis either, and hers were strapless, and a deep, stunning red, that complemented her long, dark hair nicely. Steff looked away quickly, almost a little embarrassed at how low the front plunged. "Oh, Mason would never come, he's too much of a stickler. Besides, who would want him here anyway? And as for Alaric-"

Not wanting anything bad said about Alaric, Steff interjected quickly. "He had a Clave meeting to attend. I'm sure he would have come if he was able to."

Savannah gave a laugh as if amused, before standing up. "Who's coming in for a swim? I bet the water will be nice."

As some of them followed Savannah towards the water, Rose glanced over at Steff with a mischievous smile. "Aren't you going to come in, Steff? Are you wearing the swimmers I brought for you?"

Steff blushed lightly, which Rose of course found adorable. She had rarely been swimming, and didn't own a pair of swimming clothes, so Rose had insisted on buying some for her. Glancing over at her bag, Steff looked at it a little longingly, having brought a book along to read. "… I don't really know how to swim well. I didn't really plan on going in."

"Oh, but you _have_ to. I purchased them especially for you. I think they'll look lovely on you. Please tell me you're wearing them!" Rose sang, staring at her. Leaning closer, she looked at the straps under Steff's light dress, and her grin widened. "Oh, you are! Come on then!"

"Rose," Ember chided, lightly. "She doesn't have to go swimming, if she doesn't want to."

"It's perfectly safe," Rose protested, gesturing out at the water. "We're in a big group, and I'm sure any of the boys would just love to save Steff."

Even more embarrassed, Steff laughed nervously, as Rose took her hand, pulling her up. "I did say something modest, Rose-"

"Oh, come on, Steff, it's much more covered than mine or Savannah's. Plus, the blue will match your eyes!" Rose replied, persuasively.

"Okay, okay," Steff said, finally. She slipped her dress over her head, giving Ember a smile when she said it looked nice, before finally following Rose to the water to join the others.

ooOoo

Percy sat with Lev under another umbrella, content to just watch as the others swam. Lev typed away on his laptop, trying to finish a last-minute assignment for university. "I don't know how you can type so fast," Percy remarked, watching for a moment and thinking of his own poor efforts on a laptop. "That must take some skill."

"Less skill, and more practice," Lev laughed, finishing off a sentence on the computer.

"I wonder if I could make any potions that would be suitable for the beach," Percy remarked, looking deep in thought, as he stared back at the water. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when one of the half-faeries from the Institute started rummaging around the drinks container. "What about a potion that's an endless supply of softdrink?" the faerie suggested, a cheerful glint to his eyes as he looked around. "Surely someone brought some along?"

Before Percy could reply, he picked out a lemonade can, giving it a shake. Percy opened his mouth to suggest he stop before it spilled everywhere when he opened it, but he decided it was too late. "Thank you for the suggestion… What was your name?"

"Finn. That's my name," Finn replied, giving Percy a wink, making him immediately look away.

"Uh, nice. I'm Percy," he replied, with a slight laugh. "I'm guessing Rose invited you?"

"Yup. She's pretty cool. I don't know what we're celebrating, but celebration is my middle name, so of course I had to be here," Finn agreed, flipping the can open. After being shaken, it quickly started to spill out and over his arms although Finn merely laughed, lifting his arm to lick it off. "See ya 'round, Percy."

Percy nodded, exchanging a slightly puzzled look with Lev, before taking out his notebook, to add an idea to it.

ooOoo

At a squeal of delight, Layla sat up a little, from where she was lounging. She had no interest in swimming that day, and she wondered whether it was a werewolf thing, or whether she was just tired. Caleb had left to go in the water, but Park had disappeared, being gone a little too long to just be getting a drink, like he'd said. She easily spotted the cause for this, as Evande let out another squeal. Amused, she couldn't help but snort, watching as Evande chased Park's tail.

As Park protested, she finally got up, deciding to go and help him out. She was just as terrible with children, but at least she thought she was a little better at ordering them around. "Evande," she called, rolling her eyes slightly in exasperation as he reached again for Park's tail, and tripped over in the sand. "Leave Park alone."

While Park looked grateful, Evande just giggled and got up again, continuing to chase him.

"Kids these days," she muttered under her breath, trying to hide her amusement. Then, raising her voice again, she pointed towards a sand castle making set that someone had brought alone. "I think I saw Church. I'm sure he'd love to make a sand castle with you. You better go and find him."

"Really?" Evande exclaimed, jumping up and starting over to grab the set. "I'll make one with him!"

"Great, great. Don't stray too far, kid," she chuckled, exchanging a look with Park.

"Honestly, Park. Getting chased by a kid… What next?" she said, when Evande had scurried off.

"I can't help it, I swear," he protested, glancing back at his tail. "It's not like I want to be a kid magnet."

"Just sit down," Layla said, nodding back towards the chairs. "I'll get the drinks before you get mixed up in some other catastrophe."

"Sorry," Park said, holding up his hands with a helpless grin, before walking back to sit down. "I'll have whatever you're having."

Fishing out some drinks, she brought them back, before settling back in her seat.

ooOoo

Having a rapid conversation in Bulgarian, Grigor and Stefan leaned against some rocks at the side of the beach, watching. Grigor still didn't believe it matched the beaches he'd been to in Bulgaria. In particular, his favourite one, Sunny Beach. It was an 8km stretch of fine, golden sand, lined with high-rise resorts, a trillion restaurants, watersports hire tents and some of the craziest nightclubs in the country.

However, his eye was caught by some of the girls in their bikinis, and he whistled under his breath. "The girls here are nice," he remarked in Bulgarian, to Stefan, his gaze caught on a girl in red swimmers who was laughing, as she swam over a wave.

Stefan folded his arms, one of the only ones in his usual clothes, not dressed for swimming at all. He was just there if Grigor needed him to translate. After all, he had not fought, so it didn't seem fair for him to be able to celebrate like everyone else. "You should go and talk to them, then," he encouraged finally, a little sick of Grigor's incessant talk about them. "In _English_ ," he stressed. "It'll be good practice."

"Maybe I should," Grigor agreed, running a hand through his hair, and straightening. Pulling his shirt over his head, he handed it to Stefan, content to just wear his swimming trunks. "Wish me luck."

Stefan took his shirt, not putting it down, since he didn't want it to get sandy. "You don't need it," he laughed. "Just be your usual charming self."

Grigor flashed him a grin, before starting away, to join the others at the water.

ooOoo

Once they'd finished swimming, there was a mad rush for the towels, as everyone dried off.

Layla made a face as Caleb shook his head nearby, getting her wet, before looking in dismay at her arm. "Ah, I'm sunburnt. _Again_."

"Maybe going red suits you," Park joked, and she reached out to hit his arm.

"Oh, be quiet," Layla said, getting up and dusting the sand off her chair, as she glanced over at the others.

Steff dried off her hair, slipping her dress back over her swimmers. It wasn't often she wore dresses, but they were admittedly easier to get on and off, during such an occasion.

"Thank you everyone for coming!" Rose chirped, standing up on a chair, so they'd be able to see her. "I hope you all enjoyed it!"

"Thanks for organising everything, Rose," Ember said, and Steff nodded in agreement.

"Yes, we couldn't have done it without you," Steff said, hoping to cheer her spirits.

Rose beamed, and while everyone took their time gathering everything up and heading towards the Portal, she looked out at the glistening water.

It seemed like a promise of better things to come.

* * *

"You _must_ tell me where we're going," Aspen laughed, as he followed Caspian. "Surely we're nearly there, by now."

Caspian didn't bother to glance back at him. "You really do need to learn some patience."

"I can't help it," Aspen complained, lightly. "I really have no idea."

"Good," Caspian replied, suddenly reaching out to take his hand, and draw him closer. "We're nearly there," he said, lowering his voice and before Aspen could protest, he held a hand over his eyes, continuing to pull him onwards. "So you can't look. Not yet."

"How kinky," Aspen grinned, and Caspian merely rolled his eyes, pulling him a little more, to increase their pace. "Shut up," he retorted, as if not sure what else to say.

Stifling a laugh, Aspen focused on the sounds, hearing a particularly unfamiliar one ahead. He'd certainly never heard it before, but he'd imagined it many times before, and he felt his anticipation growing. "Is it-…" he started, before Caspian drew him to a stop, and lowered his hand. "…The ocean," Aspen finished, his green eye sparkling in delight as he stared out at the sand and the water. It was a small hidden cove, surrounded by mountains, and they were the only ones in sight.

"It's a lot like I imagined," Aspen said, stepping closer, until he could feel the sand under his feet. "It's very beautiful."

Caspian nodded, and his blonde hair was annoying when it blew in his face, obstructing his view as he walked to join him. He was a little intrigued by the ocean as well, but his gaze was keen on Aspen's face, as if more interested in analysing his reaction.

"I love it," Aspen sighed, and he raised his hand to the clasp of his cloak, undoing the heavy weight. Folding it up, he placed it down on the sand, along with his sword, before looking at Caspian, expectantly. "Here," he said, gesturing to Caspian's own cloak. "We don't need these."

Pausing, Caspian undid his, before passing it to Aspen, so he could fold it and add it to his own. He then placed his staff on top, making sure it was steady, before straightening.

"It's our very own hideout, just like the lake." Aspen glanced at him sidelong. "How did you find it?"

"I found out from someone," Caspian replied vaguely, refusing to say any more on the subject, and Aspen found it endearing that he'd asked someone else, just to find out for him.

"You? Asked someone? Don't tell me the world is ending," Aspen joked, lightly.

"Oh, shut up," Caspian retorted, pushing his shoulder lightly, before starting towards the water, and Aspen followed eagerly. Bending down when he reached it, Aspen dipped his hand in the water, finding it a little cool, but otherwise nice. Raising his hand to his mouth, he licked his finger quickly, as if testing it. "Salty," he remarked, with a grin.

Making a sound in agreement, Caspian remained standing, although he dipped a foot in the water tentatively. "It's not bad," he remarked, his eyes flicking over to him. "… I might go for a swim. Did you want to come?"

Considering, Aspen shook his head. "I don't think I will. The water feels funny on my wings," he said, not keen on the idea of the waves crashing on them. "But you go. I'll enjoy the view," he grinned, slowly.

Caspian nodded in understanding, as if he'd expected that answer. "If you're sure."

"It's fine," Aspen urged, walking over to lay down on the sand, resting his head on his hands and adjusting his position to make it more comfortable for his wings.

Caspian hesitated for a long moment, his eyes moving to scan the beach, and Aspen wondered for a moment what he was thinking. About to ask, he found he didn't need to when Caspian's hands curled around the hem of his shirt, and he easily worked it out.

There was no one nearby, and he was glad when Caspian had the courage to pull his shirt up, and off his head, leaving it on the ground. He wanted to say something… _anything_ , but when Caspian's eyes met his, there was an unspoken understanding, and he knew he didn't need to say it out loud. He knew exactly what he meant.

"I'll be back soon," Caspian promised, turning back to the water and starting towards it. Once he reached it, he waded into the water until he was in deeper, before he ducked under a wave, and easily swam past it.

Propping himself up on his elbows to watch, Aspen whistled under his breath, enjoying observing, finding the beach both peaceful and excitingly new. The water was breathtakingly clear, and he could see Cas's powerful strokes, as he made his way through the water.

"Mmm, I could get used to this," he murmured, resting his hand against his cheek comfortably. The gentle rumble of the waves cultivated his thoughts, and he succumbed to them, thinking about them incessantly, until Caspian finally emerged from the water. His hair was dripping wet, and he looked pale in the sunlight. His silver eye was light as he approached him, his gaze scanning his expression. "Enjoying yourself?" Caspian asked.

"Definitely," Aspen agreed, his lips curling up in a smile. "The view of the ocean was almost as good as you," he said, playfully.

Rolling his eyes, although there was a hint of a smile in them, Caspian reached down to his shirt, picking it up. Before he could put it on, Aspen beckoned him over. "Wait. Come over here," he said, his eyes glittering.

Watching him questioningly, Caspian's hands stilled on his shirt. "… What?" he said, although he moved closer.

Laughing breathily at his caution, he reached up, catching Caspian's hands to pull him down and closer to him. A little caught off guard, Caspian moved closer, bracing his hands against the ground on either side of him, to catch himself. Aspen's hands snagged on his shirt, and he pulled it away from his fingers, setting it down beside them. "There, much better," he breathed. Wrapping his hand around Cas's neck, he pulled him even closer, until his lips could brush his cheek.

"I'll get you wet," Caspian protested, although Aspen ignored him, not minding the drops of water that fell on him intermittently.

Running his other hand through his blonde, wet strands of hair, he smiled fondly. "Thank you for bringing me here," he murmured, his lips brushing Caspian's. "It's perfect."

"I'm glad you like it," Caspian replied, his eyes intent on his. "And that it lived up to your… expectations."

The sand was hard against his wings as he shifted slightly. Playfully, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Caspian's, as his hand moved lightly along the lines of his chest. Caspian returned the kiss, and he didn't flinch as Aspen's hand moved along his back, feeling the raised scars there that Caspian hated so much.

"I'm happy you could take it off, here," Aspen said, braking apart just slightly, so he could speak. His hand rested back against his chest, lightly, to show what he meant. "It's a part of you, and it doesn't make you any less of a faerie. You're still perfect, scars and all."

Caspian inhaled, staring at him for a moment. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. His gaze was steady, and there was a kind of acceptance there, that Aspen had never seen before. Leaning forward again, Caspian kissed him for a long moment, before moving to lay beside him. Aspen turned his head to look at him, and he wondered if the sand hurt his back, when it dug in. Watching him warmly for a moment, he exhaled slowly.

The day had been perfect, and he wished silently that they never had to leave, as all thoughts of the Hunt fell away behind him.

* * *

 **So I don't know if I got everything right and sorry the first part was rushed (there's so many more characters I could have written about, it's a little overwhelming), but there's my quick one day attempt.**


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